


Irresistible

by AmyViolet



Category: Glee
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Applied Phlebotinum, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyViolet/pseuds/AmyViolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam puts on Brittany's old Cheerios uniform. Wearing it does things to him...and to everyone who sees him in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, wearing Brittany's uniform for the first time, finds Unique completely irresistible. The feeling is mutual!

Unique stands outside the boys' locker room and knocks loudly. She's pretty sure Jake and Ryder are the only ones in there, if only because they wouldn't be doing what they're attempting to do in front of anyone else. So it's not like she'd get beaten up for walking in. But still.

"Yeah?" Jake calls.

Unique closes her eyes and opens the door just enough that they'll be able to hear her better. "It's Unique, baby. Can you boys come out here so I can talk to you?"

"We asked you to meet us in the choir room at six," Ryder answers. It's five till now.

"Uh-uh. Unique wants to talk to you while you're still wearing your own clothes." She waits for a response and, getting none, adds, "Marley told me what you're planning to do."

She hears them grumbling to each other for a minute before Jake yells, "It was supposed to be a surprise!"

"Oh, Unique was surprised all right! Unique went white as a ghost when Marley let your little plan slip." Jake laughs at this, but Ryder doesn't. "It's sweet, but I don't want you to do it. Come on out and I'll tell you why."

They emerge a few minutes later, wearing the jeans and t-shirts they've had on all day, thank goodness. "We wanted to do something to show you our support," Jake tries to explain before Unique can even say anything.

"Yeah, I mean, we know it doesn't mean much when it's just the four of us, and we're totally willing to do it during the school day," Ryder adds. "We just thought we might have to sort of work up to that."

"Oh, honeys." Unique could kiss them both, and she probably would if she thought...well, it's more than enough that they support her. "You getting yourselves beat up doesn't help me. Besides—it's lovely that you want to make a symbolic gesture, but you boys dressing in drag really isn't the same thing as Unique being Unique."

The boys continue to object that they really want to do something, and Unique continues to insist that parading around in a couple of Marley's dresses is not the thing they need to do. This goes on until Unique realizes that Ryder said something odd a few minutes ago. "Hold up, did you say four of us earlier?"

"Oh, yeah. Sam wanted to do it too."

"Where is the blond cutie?"

Jake and Ryder look at each other for a second. "Choir room, probably," Jake says. "He was getting something to wear out of Brittany's locker, so he probably just changed there in the girls' locker room."

"Oh Lord," Unique says. "I best go talk to him."

"We'll come with you," Ryder says.

"No, don't, it'll just embarrass the poor boy. The less people that see him in one of Brittany's ensembles, the better."

The guys see her point, and Unique heads to the choir room by herself. She realizes that she shouldn't have referred to Sam as a "cutie"; they'll think she has a crush on him. Which she probably would, actually, if she allowed herself to have those anymore. But after the catfishing debacle, she's sworn them off, at least until college. But realistically probably a lot longer than that even.

She walks into the choir room and Sam is sitting on the piano...in Brittany's old Cheerios uniform...and it hits her like a tidal wave that holy mother of God is that boy sexy. Not that this is news, exactly, but still, how did she not realize before how out-of-this-world sexy he is?

His legs! This is a boy who should wear a tiny skirt every day, because his legs are long and lean, muscular, with just the right amount of soft blond hair. And if she could just get a look under the skirt...

Unique, she tells herself, stop it this instant!

But she can't stop it, she's completely powerless. She even has a lady boner, right there in the choir room. She can only pray that her skirt is hiding hers better than Sam's is hiding his.

Wait...what?

Unique is totally hot. How is it that Sam has never noticed that before? He's always thought she's pretty, especially for...you know, someone who wasn't born with girl parts. But he's never before felt such an urge—such a need, really—to get with whatever parts she has.

Okay, calm down, Sam. You can't just walk up to a girl and announce that you need to sex her up immediately. He slides off the piano and walks over to her, way too close in fact, he's standing in front of her with only a pubic hair's distance between them. "Unique. I, uh..."

"Sam, can I kiss you?" Unique's hand moves to cover her mouth as soon as the words are out of it, but Sam's mouth gets there first. That mouth! Soft yet forceful, as to Unique's great surprise and delight he kisses her!

It's not enough, though. His lips, his tongue in her mouth, her tongue in his...it's all amazing, but it isn't enough. Unique finds herself pushing Sam backwards until he's pressed against the piano. When she can't push him any farther she finds her hands sliding up those gorgeous legs, toward the treasure under that itty bitty little skirt. "Is this okay?" she asks, although he probably can't understand what she's trying to say because their mouths are still locked together.

Sam tries to think, but it's really hard. Unique is squeezing his ass and she seriously has the strongest hands of any girl he's ever known and it's awesome. He really wants to reach under her skirt too. He's never wondered more than idly before what she still has or doesn't have down there and, like, if she has what he thinks she still has does she hate it? That's the thought—that's the only thought—that keeps him from trying anything: if she hates her own equipment, then she probably wouldn't like Sam to touch it, and she might not even let him keep touching her at all, and he really needs to keep touching her.

So under the shirt it is. He still doesn't know if she'll get mad, but it's a risk he has to take. He tries to go slow and not freak her out, but it doesn't quite work out that way and he pops off a button or two. Oh god. Under any other circumstances he'd probably stop to wonder whether her tits were real or what, but now all he can do is feel how awesome they are. They're seriously like...fuck. And her nipples...he barely touches them and she makes the sexiest sound he's ever heard.

And then—Jesus, Jesus, Jesus! She's rubbing his cock...over the spanks, and he thinks he's going to cry. "Please, Unique, please! Please touch me...under. Please, baby."

Unique has never touched a dick before except...well, her own, technically...and she always worried that it would be weird to do so. But she doesn't hesitate for even a second when Sam asks her to touch his. She pushes the spanks down just as far as she has to and takes that beautiful boy's cock in her hand, and oh god it's so hard—Sam is hard for her, or despite her anyway, which in itself is more than she would have asked for—and it's burning hot, and it's all wet at the tip. He whines and pushes in to her touch, and he's...he's humping her hand, he's...she's got it wrapped around him, and so really it's like he's...making love to her hand, and that is just so hot Unique can't even take it.

Without totally knowing what she's doing, she pulls him away from the piano and pushes him onto the cold, hard, tile floor of the choir room. She pushes his skirt out of the way, exposing his gorgeous, gorgeous cock. She hikes her own skirt up out of the way, and she straddles him and grinds against him, and it's so perfect, it's like this is what her whole life has been leading up to. She's so overwhelmed with how good it is, and the fact that Sam's moans sound like those of someone who thinks it's good too, that she barely even cares how ridiculous she must look. And even when Sam says, "Unique, Unique, wait," all she can feel is dread of having to stop, not actual mortification at what she's doing.

"What, baby? Please don't tell me to stop."

"No, god no. Just, could you take your panties off too? Please?"

"Oh!" It's not something she would even consider, not for a second...normally.

But when Sam again says please, when he says, "Please, baby, I just...I really, really wanna feel your...your skin against mine. I want it so bad..." she slides them right off and flings them to the side.

An hour ago Unique would have said there was no way she was ready to let any part of another person touch her down there. But grinding herself against Sam, her skin against his, is totally blowing her mind. She's going to cream her panties any second. Or she would, if she were wearing any.

Sam can't believe how hot Unique is. He loves seeing her just let go despite how shy she obviously is about her, well, about her anatomy. And Sam would have thought he'd be uncomfortable with it too, honestly. But having a girl's cock grinding against his feels totally amazing; he's never wanted anything or anyone more.

And soon—really, really soon—his balls tighten and he's about to come. He grabs Unique by the hips and pulls her as close as he can. "Unique...baby...oh god..." Unique squeals and ruts against him wildly, and they fall over the edge together, clinging together while they each unload, their fluids mingling between their bodies as they ride out their waves of pleasure.

Sam has never come for so long before, and by the time their orgasms finally wind down he's exhausted. Unique is too, if her collapsing against his chest is any indication. He reaches up lazily to rub her back. "Oh my god, Unique. That was..."

Unique scrambles off him and pulls her skirt down. She scoots several feet away from him before she asks in a near-whisper, "Sam, honey, what just happened?"

Sam sits up but doesn't attempt to move closer. "I don't know," he says honestly. She looks so terror-struck. And yeah, whatever just happened was really weird and confusing as hell, but Sam's a lot less interested in figuring that out than he is in helping Unique not be so horrified. "I'm sorry, Unique. I really didn't want to freak you out."

"You're worried that I'm freaked out?" She actually laughs, just a little. "Honey, I live with my lady wang twenty-four-seven."

Sam laughs too. He probably isn't supposed to, but he can't help it—he just really never expected to hear the term lady wang come out of Unique's mouth. "I'm not freaked out," he assures her. "I mean, it was weird—it was really weird, but only because I've never had things escalate that soon and that fast with anyone. It wasn't weird because of your lady wang."

"Only I can say that word," Unique informs him.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry!" He's really trying not to say the wrong thing.

"I'm only teasing you, baby." She gives him a small smile.

"Oh. Well, don't worry, I probably won't say it that often anyway." He smiles back at her, but now he feels awkward. "So, um. This is totally out of order, but...would you like to go out on a date with me?"

"For real?"

"Yeah, of course for real. I mean, unless you don't want to."

"Yes! I do want to. Just...don't wear that sexy cheerleader uniform or I might not be able to control myself."

Sam laughs, not really feeling awkward anymore. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on making it a regular thing." That reminds him, though. "I wonder what happened to Ryder and Jake, they were supposed to meet us here."

Unique fills him in on her conversation with them outside the locker room, which she'd completely forgotten about until now. They get up and turn their backs to each other while putting their underclothes back on, and they walk to the choir room door together while making plans for their date. "So I'll see you Friday at seven," Sam says. "Well, and at school before that, so..." He hesitates just a second before placing his hand on her cheek and kissing her. And then Unique walks off one way to go home, and Sam heads to the girls' locker room in the other direction.

He needs to change out of this stupid cheerleader outfit and back into his own clothes.


	2. Sue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns the origin of the uniform from the one who gave it its powers: Principal Sylvester.

Sam walks into the locker room, and now he knows something really weird is going on...because he pops an insta-boner at the sight of Principal Sylvester. Because his first thought isn't Shit, I'm busted for being in the girls' locker room; it's Holy shit, I have to fuck her.

She has his back to him. And, wow, he's never noticed her ass before, and Oh, Jesus, Sam, stop! "I'm going to stop you right there," she says, not turning to look at him. "My contract makes it very clear that this locker room is reserved for my exclusive use between the hours of six and ten, so you'll need to turn around and just march yourself right out of here, missy."

Yeah. Yeah, turn around and march right out. Except he can't, because he wants her so bad. And so he stands there and tries not to stare at Sue Sylvester's ass, but he literally can't help it.

"I am practicing the ancient Buddhist art of medi-hate-tion, focusing all my hatred and channeling it toward the destruction of the glee club, so if you don't mind..." She turns around and her jaw drops as she takes in the sight of Sam in that cheerleader outfit, that damn sexy, irresistible cheerleader outfit. "Where did you get that?" she demands.

"I...uh..." Sam holds one of the skirt pleats between his fingers, but he still can't tear his eyes away from Sue. "It's Brittany's."

"I know it's Brittany's," she says. She clutches her throat and walks toward him. "What I asked you is...oh, never mind. I can barely expect a straight answer out of you under the best of circumstances. I'm sure it's pointless to even try before we knock boots."

"Before we...?"

Sue sighs, exasperated, and unzips her track suit jacket. Sam tries really, really hard not to look at her tits when she takes it off, but they're right there, and what else is he going to look at? And they're not that great—he really does realize that they're not that great because they're Coach Sylvester's tits—but it doesn't even matter and he just really, really wants to touch them. "...and you're so busy ogling my bouncing Buddhas that you didn't hear a word I just said."

"Huh?" Sam asks.

She takes his face in her hand and forces him to look in her eyes. And she looks annoyed, like always, but then he expression actually softens for a second and looks affectionate, and then it turns to one of pure lust. "Listen carefully. You want me."

"I...uh...How did you..."

"And, god help, me I want you too."

"You do?" Sam asks. He feels himself smiling like an idiot. Why is he smiling like an idiot over Sue Sylvester wanting him?

"Yes, and trust me, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can give me the uniform and we can start pretending this never happened." She grabs his ass and pulls him toward her so they're crotch-to-crotch, and they both gasp.

Sam really just wants to start fucking her, but he's actually managing to pay attention to what she's saying too. "Wait, so it's the uniform?"

"Of course it's the uniform. Unless Nurse Butterfingers McFumblepants gave you a charisma injection lately." Sue takes his hands and places them on her breasts and mutters, "Oh, yeah."

Sam knows...he knows this should be way more disturbing than awesome. But still, it's pretty fucking awesome. Even more awesome is when it dawns on him that he can apparently get anyone he wants—specifically, someone hotter than Sue—to go crazy for him by just...what? Does he just have to wear the uniform, or...? "How does it work?"

"Good god, I know those lips can be put to better use than talking right now. Just launch your torpedo into me until we both release our geysers of feel-good brain chemicals and feel-sticky genital chemicals—and, yes, ladies do release geysers, though I do your generation of boys doesn't realize that, which is why I gave up taking fifteen-year-old lovers when I turned thirty last year—and then we'll have a window of approximately nineteen minutes during which I can explain everything before the effects start again."

"What?"

"Oh my god, how much farther do I have to dumb it down for you? You see, you have a snake that wants nothing more than to be inside a nice, cozy cave—"

"Stop! Oh my god, stop right there!" Sam thinks about stuffing her mouth with his snake—his dick! his dick!—so she can't go on with her bizarre metaphors. "I know about sex. I just meant what as in...approximately nineteen minutes? How do you know so much about it?"

"Why are you surprised?" Sue reaches under his spanks and gropes his ass. "Who else do you think could come up with such an ingenious scheme? Now why don't you just slip out of those clothes, hand them over, and we can enjoy our seven seconds in heaven and then go about our respective business?"

"Yeah," Sam agrees. She's got her hands on his chest now, and she's pushing the cheer top up, and it feels really disturbingly good, especially when her fingers brush over his nipples. But he has a sudden moment of clarity and he grabs her hands and stops her. "Wait, you can't have the uniform!"

"Don't be stupid," Sue tells him as she tries to pull her hands free of his. Failing this, she licks his neck and adds, "You wouldn't know what to do with it."

Sam turns her around and stands behind her so she can't keep doing stuff to him that make it hard to concentrate. Because he's not actually stupid and he's realized that if he wants to find out from her what's going on he's going to have to get her to tell him before they get to those nineteen minutes where the uniform is powerless and all she'll have to do is walk away if she doesn't feel like answering.

He holds one of her boobs in each hand and kisses the back of her neck, hoping it'll do more to her than it's doing to him (which is more than he will ever admit to anyone, weirdly powered uniform or no). She moans and starts to grind her track-suit-covered ass against his erection. Damn it! He wants to let her keep doing it, but he forces himself to twist so she can't reach him. "Tell me everything you know about the uniform."

"Orgasms first," Principal Sylvester insists.

"Orgasms never, until you tell me."

"You're bluffing," she says, squirming in his grasp. "You want it as bad as I do."

She's right, he's bluffing. But he thinks she's bluffing about knowing that he's bluffing. "I do want it," he concedes. He nibbles on her ear and whispers, "But not as bad as you do. I just came like ten minutes ago. How long has it been for you?"

She scoffs—or at least she makes a noise that's supposed to be a scoff. It sounds a lot more desperate than dismissive, though, and he knows he's got her. "So what if it's been more than ten minutes for me? I'm not a sixteen-year-old boy."

Sam's eighteen but he doesn't bother to correct her on that point. "Exactly," he says. "Who has more practice at not having sex when they really want to than teenage guys?"

She struggles a bit before ultimately surrendering. "Fine. But at least let me sit in your lap while I tell you."

Sam thinks about it for a second. "Fine. Sitting but no groping. And no dry humping."

"Fine." They take a few moments to get settled: Sue tries to sit facing him, straddling his thighs, but Sam will only allow her to sit sidesaddle on his lap. "Okay," she says, "I'm going to make this quick because I need your train in my station."

And there is no way a statement like that should turn Sam on, so he pretends it doesn't and agrees.

"The uniform has an aphrodisiac effect, as you've noticed."

"Aphrodisiac? That's like pheromones?"

"Yeah. Except real," Sue says, rolling her eyes.

"And you made it? The uniform? And gave it to Brittany?"

"That's right, Sammy Hardy. Now take out your—"

"Why? Brittany probably would have fucked you anyway." Not a nice thing to say about his ex-girlfriend, but true nonetheless. She once told him about some pretty explicit fantasies she had about Coach Bieste, so...

"I didn't create the uniform so I could seduce minors! Like I would've needed help for that!"

"Then why?"

"The orgasms. Every orgasm that Brittany—and the Cheerios who wore the uniform before her—had or caused a partner to have while wearing the uniform gave her a competitive edge. How do you think we won all those national championships? And why do you think my Cheerios were always smiling so hard after every practice?"

"They were fucking each other?"

"Yes, MacArthur genius. Well, and Brittany liked to branch out beyond her teammates. It turns out the greater variety of partners gave her an even better edge."

"But not because it hurt the other Cheerios, right? It didn't, like, drain their edgy energy or something?"

"Of course not, why would it? You watch too much bad sci-fi. If anything it made all my girls better competitors."

"But how does it work? What did you do to it?"

Sue sighs with exasperation. "I dipped it in a vat of phlebotinum, okay? Thta's a high-tech and highly classified substance that if I tell you any more about I'll have to kill you. Now, I have had the exact maximum amount of precoital conversation that I can tolerate..." She takes his hand, which he's been clutching around her waist to avoid getting too carried away, and moves it between her legs. She soaked, all the way through her track suit and whatever ugly granny panties she's no doubt wearing underneath. Not that Sam cares in the least how hideous her underthings are, because he's also reached his maximum tolerance for precoital...anything.

Sam lets her up and she's out of the bottom half of her track suit before he knows it. She tries to rid him of the spanks, but he doesn't trust her with them and won't let them past his knees. She doesn't fight with him, she just sits in his lap again, facing him, taking his cock inside her in one go.

And it's so, so good—it's so good that he's completely forgotten that it shouldn't be good at all, it should be creeping him out big time. It was the waiting, probably, the trying to act like he didn't need it that bad, that makes it such a relief to be fucking her now. They don't even manage to get much of a rhythm going, and actually Sam can't really move that much with the way his legs are trapped in the uniform spanks and the way Sue is holding him down against the bench.

None of that matters in the least, he just needs to come, he just needs to come so bad. And he's going to, and he can tell it's going to be epic, and he tries to brace himself.

Sue starts to come first. She's not that loud, and she doesn't even start humping him that much harder or anything (probably because it couldn't get that much harder), but he knows she's coming hard because he feels her muscles go crazy all over his cock. Sam screams, and then he muffles his scream by biting the shoulder of his principal as his dick pulses and unloads in her.

They both close their eyes and lean against each other while they catch their breath. Their postcoital tenderness is short-lived, however, and soon Sue climbs off his lap and orders him to face the wall while she puts her clothes back on. Sam is more than happy to comply, and he keeps his eyes squeezed shut just to be sure.

"Are you going to hand over the uniform voluntarily?" she asks. "You can turn around now, by the way."

"Hell no, I'm not giving it to you," Sam says. He turns and opens his eyes cautiously.

She points her index finger right at his face but fails to look threatening at all. "You're just lucky that my muscles are way too jelly-like at the moment to fight you for it.. But mark my words. If you ever wear that thing in my presence again..."

"I won't!" Sam says. The sex was amazing, so he doesn't exactly regret it, but still he doesn't even want to think about repeating it. "Believe me, I won't."

Sue tries to give him the hairy eyeball before skulking out of the locker room, but, again, not threatening at all. As soon as she's gone Sam collapses back on the bench. As soon as his brain is functioning again he's going to figure out who to use this baby on next.


	3. Blaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam turns to Blaine to help him decide what he should do with the uniform. Only problem: Blaine needs to be convinced of its powers.

He really can't decide what to do next, though. Now that he knows the power of the uniform he feels like just springing it on any more unsuspecting people would make him sort of a rapist. He should probably just bury the thing in the backyard, but the thought of letting it go to waste like that is extremely unappealing.

So he calls Blaine and says, "I need your help." Blaine, of course, tells him to come right over, because he's an awesome bro like that. He changes into his street clothes, puts the uniform in his backpack, and heads out.

In the hallway he passes Becky, and he freezes and presses himself against the wall. He's hopes, god he hopes, that the uniform only works if he's wearing it and not just carrying it. Because of all the people he'd feel terrible about taking advantage of...

He watches warily as she walks past and notices with relief the absence of lustful stirrings. Becky's apparently not feeling anything either; she scowls at him and says, "What are you staring at, mophead?" Even though this seems to prove he's totally safe as long as he's not actually wearing the outfit, it feels like a close call, and he runs out to his car in the parking lot.

Blaine gives him a puzzled look when he opens the door to let him in. "Why are you holding your backpack like that? Don't tell me you've got another cat in there."

"Sue," Sam explains, glancing around. Blaine's front yard has a lot of landscaping a person could be hiding behind. "I can't let her get what's in here."

"Principal Sylvester?" Blaine asks, and now he's looking around too. "Do you think she followed you here?"

"With her, who knows?"

Blaine nods and says, "Well, get in. Quick." He pulls Sam inside, locks the door, and shuts the curtains. "What've you got? Info that'll bring her down?"

"No, dude." Sam looks at Blaine like he's crazy. "It's a magic Cheerios uniform."

"A magic Cheerios uniform? O...kay." He reaches to reopen one of the curtains, but Sam grabs his arm.

"Dude, you don't believe me?"

"Considering you just used the word magic..."

"Right. My bad. It's not magic, it's actually some super-classified scientific dealie. Really high tech. You wouldn't understand."

"Uh-huh."

"Not that you're too dumb or anything...I mean, I don't really understand it myself...but that's just because Principal Sylvester wasn't at liberty to divulge too many details..."

Blaine can't even imagine what kind of bullshit Sue Sylvester was trying to feed Sam, or more importantly why. "Maybe that's because there are no details to divulge," he suggests as gently as he can. He doesn't want to imply that he thinks Sam is overly gullible or anything. "Maybe it's just an ordinary cheerleading uniform that for some reason she wants you to think—"

"Nuh-uh," Sam says definitively. "This is no ordinary uniform. I've seen it in action. I've seen its powers."

Blaine dramatically pulls him into the dining room. "Then for god's sake get away from the door, Blond Chameleon, and tell me about its sinister powers!"

Sam crosses his arms. "Dude, I came to you for advice, and you either think I'm joking around or you think I'm an idiot."

"I don't think you're stupid, Sam," Blaine says, trying to sound conciliatory. "I admit I thought maybe you were joking, but..." He pulls out a chair for Sam and sits in one himself. "Tell me about the sinister powers."

Sam doesn't sit. "I didn't say they were sinister! They're actually awesome."

Sam's acting really serious, so Blaine is at a loss. "Okay. Well, I can't offer any advice if you don't tell me what awesome powers the outfit has."

"Okay, so...I put the thing on and it...it makes me totally irresistible. Like, chicks who see me in it can't help themselves, they're all over me. And I assume it works on gay dudes too. And maybe even straight dudes, I probably should have asked, but probably it does work on them too, because, I mean, it worked—"

"Sam. That's not magic. You're a good looking guy. And those Cheerios uniforms...well, lots of people have a thing for cheerleaders, even girls for guys who are cheerleaders..." As Blaine has discovered the awkward way on an occasion or two.

"I'm not just saying I look hot in it. That goes without saying. I'm saying people can't keep their hands off me. People who...I mean, they probably thought I was hot already, but they never did anything about it. And, uh, it works on me too..."

"You can't keep your hands off yourself?"

"No, off them. The girls...the people who can't keep their hands off me. It's mutual."

"Well, that's normal. Everyone is turned on by someone being into them."

"Not when the someone is Sue Sylvester," Sam mutters.

Blaine leans forward, but he misses what Sam says. "What?"

"I said, You're not going to believe me until I show you, are you?" Sam really didn't want to spring the thing on anyone unsuspecting, but it's not like he hasn't been trying to warn him. And honestly, he really, really wants to find out if it works with dudes, and there's no dude he'd rather find out with than Blaine.

"So show me!" Blaine says, letting a slight note of exasperation creep into his voice.

"Fine, I will!" Sam storms out of the dining room to change, but he pops his head back in a couple seconds later. "Just to be really clear...if we see each other when I'm wearing this thing, we're going to end up having sex. For real, I mean."

"Got it," Blaine says as he leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on the one he offered to Sam a few minutes ago. "You have to be the one to explain to Kurt why it's not cheating."

Wow, Blaine is really annoying sometimes. It would serve him right if Sam didn't put on a miniskirt and fuck him. Except that he's really curious now, and besides, the look on Blaine's face when he realizes how wrong he was is going to be fucking priceless.

Sam changes in the guest bathroom, and when he reenters the dining room the look on Blaine's face is, indeed, fucking priceless.

He shouldn't be so surprised—he actually knew what was coming this time—but seeing Blaine knocks the breath out of him. He totally forgets about wanting to rub it in that he was right and every other pointless and trivial thing because he needs to fuck Blaine super bad.

Blaine takes one look at Sam in that Cheerios get-up—and Sam did not mention it was a girls' uniform, which should actually make him a lot less hot, in Blaine's opinion, but which does not make him less hot at all—and he just...he can't even...His legs—Jesus fucking Christ! And his ass and his...! Sam does a little twirl and the skirt flies up, revealing his round, perfect ass and his hard, perfect cock—both covered but not really hidden by a layer of red spandex, and Blaine is just...He's just up and out of his chair and before he really knows what he's doing he's jumping on Sam, literally jumping on him. Sam catches him and stumbles backward a couple steps, and Blaine wraps his legs around his waist and tightens each fist around a hunk of hair and kisses him hard.

This isn't...he doesn't want to cheat on Kurt, but whatever's going on feels so much stronger than his own will, it feels inevitable, and maybe that's just an excuse because he has actually wanted to do Sam for, like, forever, but he's going to sort all that out in his mind later...or not...really all he cares about is getting his best friend inside him.

Sam holds and moves Blaine's ass as they grind against each other. Definitely works with gay dudes, he thinks when he realizes he doesn't have any misgivings, not a single one, about wanting to fuck a guy. He has a bit of a misgiving about the fact that Blaine is with Kurt—he isn't really available—but Kurt would understand if he knew about he uniform. He would have to.

"Fuck me, Sam. God, please fuck me."

Sam wants to fuck Blaine more than anything. But he's done anal with Brittany, and he knows you can't just rip someone's clothes off and stick it in. You have to help them get ready, it takes time, and time is the one thing Sam feels like he absolutely does not have.

He maneuvers Blaine to the table, pushes some candles and shit out of the way, and lays him down on his back. He's pretty sure he's going to have to literally rip his pants off because he's wearing this belt that's, like, it's like Kurt locked him up in some medieval chastity device. But Blaine unfastens it himself, and Sam pulls off his uniform spanks. Then, just in case he has to be actually wearing every single part of the uniform for the phlebotinum to do its thing, he ties them around his wrist.

Blaine's nude from the waist down now, and his cock is just so...fucking...amazing...It's not like Sam has never wondered what it would be like to mess around with Blaine, and it's not like his wondering has been strictly idle. And he thought—not that he ever thought the two of them would ever actually do anything, but he thought, hypothetically, that if they did, he would probably enjoy it. But he never in a million years did he think he would be so in love with his friend's cock, and he kind of knows it's just the uniform making him feel that way, but on the other hand it doesn't really feel like it is just that.

But whatever, even if it is just the uniform, he wants Blaine's cock, he needs it. He wants it in his ass, actually, even though that's something he never really thought he'd probably enjoy if given the chance. What stops him from just impaling himself on his friend's dick is that same thing that keeps him from impaling his friend on his: the urgency, his inability to wait. So instead of taking it in his ass he takes it in his mouth.

"Oh god! Sam, oh Jesus, oh god!" Sam's mouth, fuck. Considering all the times Blaine has imagined having his dick in it, there's no way he should be this surprised by how amazing it is. But he is, he's blown away, he's so blown away that it doesn't occur to him that "blown away" is sort of a funny expression, given the situation. Nothing occurs to him, really, except the instinct to arch up and push himself deeper into Sam's mouth.

And Sam can't believe how good Blaine's dick feels in his mouth. It's not just that he doesn't mind it—he fucking loves it. He sucks hard and sloppy and he really wants to taste it all, especially Blaine's come. The only thing that's not totally perfect about this is that he own cock actually hurts, and he's jerking it but that does nothing to relieve the ache.

He doesn't know if Blaine can sense his problem or if Blaine just really wants his cock and much as he wants Blaine's, but either way he wants to kiss Blaine—even though he sort of already is—when Blaine says, "Sam, Sam, sixty-nine me. Come on."

Sam swivels on the table without dropping Blaine's cock from his mouth, and soon he's got his ass in his face and his junk dangling tantalizingly in front of Blaine's mouth. Except that Tantalus was never able to reach his treats, whereas Blaine gets his mouth around his mouthwatering temptation within seconds. Sam's cock is so warm and hard in his mouth, and it tastes so good. Sam's balls rest heavily on Blaine's nose, and Blaine has a super close up view of a totally gorgeous ass, made all the more irresistible by the little skirt frills that it's poking out from.

Blaine so wants to fuck Sam. He wants to fuck Sam and he wants to get fucked by Sam, and there's no way he's going to get to, but he can't be bothered by that too much right now because he's super close to coming in Sam's amazingly awesome mouth.

He should warn Sam—it seems like the polite thing to do when a straight guy is blowing you for reasons that aren't totally clear—but that would involve thinking half a second ahead and letting Sam's cock out of his mouth, neither of which he's prepared to do. By the time he makes a sound that's something like "Mmmff!" he's already unloading into his best friend's mouth. And his best friend starts unloading into his mouth a split second later, and it's so good Blaine's pretty sure they actually levitate and hover over the dining room table for a few seconds.

Blaine swallows Sam's load...and, amazingly, he's pretty sure Sam swallows his. He doesn't feel him leaning over the edge of the table or groping around for a napkin or something to spit into, at any rate.

Sam rolls off him and turns so he's lying on his side and their heads are next to each other. "Believe me now?"

Blaine laughs. "Yeah, I'd say the evidence is pretty irrefutable." He runs his fingers through Sam's hair and pulls his head down for a kiss. Damn, that mouth! It doesn't hurt one bit that Blaine can taste his own spunk on it.

Sam says, "I should probably change out of this thing." But instead of getting off the table he lays his head on Blaine's chest, closes his eyes, and brushes his fingertips up and down his side.

"But not because you're freaked out, right?" Blaine asks. "Because I don't want to be the kind of gay guy who takes advantage of his straight friends."

"Takes ad-...? Dude, I was the one who knew what was going to happen. I did try to warn you..."

Blaine rubs his back and agrees, "You did. You warned me and, through no fault of yours, I didn't listen." His hand is wandering lower on Sam's back as he adds, "You wanna hear a secret?"

"Totally."

"It was a little disappointing. I mean it was awesome. It was, honest to god, the best sex I ever had. The only thing that was disappointing was that it was over so fast. I mean, I really wanted to—"

"Me too. I mean, since we're sharing secrets and everything. Not to mention bodily fluids, so...I really wanted you to fuck me too."

Blaine's pretty sure he didn't hear that right. "Wait. You wanted me to...?"

"Well, and I wanted to fuck you too. But, I mean...I've fucked someone before, but I've never...taken it before. So I pretty much can't think of a better way to find out what it's like."

"Damn." Blaine's suddenly aware that his hand is getting awfully close to Sam's butt, and so he stops rubbing his back because he doesn't quite trust himself in light of this new information. "I wish...I mean, I almost wish there were some way to justify doing this again. But, I mean, now that I know..."

"Well it does give me a competitive edge," Sam says. "Each orgasm does. So it would be, like, for the good of the glee club."

"Uh-huh." Blaine is skeptical, to say the least. But then, he was skeptical about the outfit's powers in general, so..."So it supposedly makes you a better singer, or what?"

"I guess? I haven't actually tried that part out yet. You want me to sing something?"

"Yeah. Why don't you?"

Sam slides off the table and Blaine sits on the edge to watch him. Sam starts to sing, and good Lord, how is Blaine supposed to judge whether his singing is objectively better than usual when they just blew each other, when Sam just said he's never been fucked before and he wants Blaine to do it, and now he's wearing this tiny little skirt with nothing underneath it and singing "Like a Virgin"? "Seriously, Sam?"

Sam stops singing. "What? It's not good?"

"Yes, it's good. It's fucking amazing. But I mean, that song?"

"It's the only song that popped into my head." It is kind of weird, now that he thinks about it, considering that he's had sex three times today with three different people.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" Blaine asks.

"I don't think it's been nineteen minutes yet, so we don't have to," Sam says.

Blaine doesn't know what nineteen minutes has to do with anything, but he's pretty sure Sam's wrong about them not having to do it. Which is not to say that he doesn't want to. God, he wants to! He just has to trust that Kurt will understand when he sees Sam in the uniform. "I have lube in my bedroom," he says, and he takes Sam's hand and leads him up the stairs to his room. He goes to the dresser to get the lube from under a stack of vests, and when he turns around he sees Sam on the bed, head down, ass up. "Oh Jesus Christ."

"I can move if this is no good," Sam says.

"It's good, Sam. It's very good." Blaine kneels behind him on the bed. It's all so astonishingly good he almost doesn't know how to start. After a moment's hesitation he starts with a touch—a gentle touch, a caress, really, starting on Sam's back and moving downward. And he kisses his hip, and Sam sighs, and he kisses some more...

And Sam interrupts him. "Blaine, that's...If we ever mess around just you and me and no uniform, then I'd love for you to do that to me for hours. But the phlebotinum is going to kick in soon, and when it does we're both gonna need for you to fuck me, like, right away. So..."

"The...what? It hasn't kicked in yet?" Blaine is pretty sure he feels the uniform's effects. He definitely wants Sam.

"Well...no. You were there. Didn't it feel more urgent than this before?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So...from what I'm told, anyway, it's gonna be like that again, approximately nineteen minutes after our orgasms, which were...I dunno, I forgot to look at the time."

"Approximately...?" It's possibly the most absurd thing Blaine has ever heard. Except for every other absurd thing Sam has told him about this uniform, all of which have turned out to be true. "Right. I'm on it." He squirts some lube onto his fingers and trusts that he'll know when the nineteen minute mark—the approximate nineteen minute mark—hits.

Sam jumps at the first touch of cold goo on his asshole. But Blaine's fingers are warm and skilled and soon they're working him open in a way that feels really good. One of them is inside him soon, and it's a little foreign and strange but not at all unpleasant. Soon he wants more, and Blaine obliges him with a second finger. He's about to ask Blaine to add one more when he feels the uniform take effect, and he knows that fingers are not going to cut it anymore. "Blaine!" he pleads, and Blaine answers simply, "Yeah."

Blaine's dick was gradually stiffening while he was prepping Sam, but now it's suddenly rock hard, and he totally feels that urgency Sam was talking about. He lubes up his cock and presses it against Sam's waiting entrance. He's all set to just ram it in, but...well, this is Sam's first time, and he's not that well stretched..."Actually I should probably..."

"Oh my god, Blaine, seriously, you have to fuck me right now."

"But what if it hurts?"

"If it hurts too bad we can sixty-nine again. Just...please!"

Ew, ass to mouth, that's gross. But whatever, they can hop in the shower if necessary. But he hopes it won't be necessary, because as awesome as Sam's mouth is, now Blaine really, really wants his ass. He holds Sam's hips and summons all his willpower—he knows he's going to need all of it to enter his best friend slowly.

The sensation of Blaine's cock breaching him is such a relief. But then instead of just slamming it home Blaine is just inching it in like a...like a little old lady who's pulling into her garage and she's terrified she's going to crash through the wall or something. "You're not gonna crash through, Blaine."

"What?"

"Go for it, dude! Fuck me!"

And there goes all Blaine's willpower, as against his better judgment he follows Sam's order and fucks him. Sam screams and pounds his fist against the mattress, but before Blaine can ask if he's okay he says, "Fuck, yeah, like that." Blaine gives up all pretense of self-control and just slams in again and again like a wild animal.

Sam has never felt anything remotely like this, and it hurts, yes, but at the same time it feels just perfect, like his most basic need—one that he never even knew he had—is finally getting filled. Filled like his ass is with Blaine's cock, which just seems so right there. Blaine's cock is nailing this spot hidden deep inside him—he's pretty sure he's going to come without even touching himself. He can't think, he can just feel, and the pleasure is so outpacing the pain—the pain is gone entirely soon, and it's just "So good, so good," which he's only vaguely aware he's saying out loud.

Blaine's been wanting to come since pretty much the first second he got inside Sam. It's the one thing he is still managing to hold back on, but he's not sure how much longer he can keep it up. Everything about Sam is so perfect. The way he feels—obviously. It's not just that he has a perfect tight, virgin asshole, but every movement he makes seems specifically designed to affect Blaine in just the right way. The way he looks—it's Sam, so no surprise, exactly, that he's unbelievably hot, but there's also something about his pose, about the way he's presenting his ass to get fucked...The way he sounds—god. The way he keeps saying so good, so good; the way Blaine can barely hear him saying that over the creaking of the bed and the slapping of their skin together. There's a scent, even, and it's the scent that's maybe driving him most crazy. Maybe it's the uniform, maybe that's how it works, except it smells so distinctly Sam...so distinctly Sam and so distinctly sexual...

"Oh fuck!" There's something about the way Blaine just nailed him and Sam knows he's done for. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..." All his muscles lock up, but at the same time he feels like they're vibrating. The orgasm takes over his whole body, not just his cock, which is spurting copious amount of spunk onto Blaine's comforter, but his fingers, his toes, his scalp...everything.

As soon as Blaine feels Sam's walls constrict around his dick he knows he can't hold off any longer. A cry is ripped from his throat as his cock surges forward, deeper into Sam's ass than should be possible, and fills him with orgasmic juices. His cock pulses and pulses, shooting more and more come into Sam's cavity; even when there's nothing left to shoot out, it keeps twitching and pulsing for a good long while.

Eventually Sam slumps forward and rolls onto his side to avoid the wet spot, and Blaine has to pull out. He cuddles up behind Sam and spoons him and—because why not, after everything else they've just done—kisses the back of his neck. "Mmm, that's nice," Sam says sleepily, and so Blaine does it again.

"Do you wanna take a little nap?" Blaine asks. He could sure go for one.

"Yeah, but...I need to leave or at least change before...I don't think I can do this again in nineteen minutes. Now that we're done it kinda hurts..."

"I'm sorry!" Blaine says.

"Don't be, it was fucking incredible. Totally worth it. I just...wish I didn't have to go all the way downstairs to get my clothes."

"So don't. Just take those off. I'll get your jeans and t-shirt when we wake up."

"Yeah, okay." Sam pulls off the top and skirt and unties the spanks from around his wrist. "This is the first time I've ever gotten undressed in bed with someone to avoid having sex with them." He starts to shove the uniform under a pillow but decides that might be too close to his person. He shoves it under the bed instead.

"Yeah, well, I guess you've had a lot of firsts today," Blaine observes.

"Fact," Sam agrees before they both drift off, snuggled up together.


	4. Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty learns that Sam has the uniform. She wants to help the team.

Sam waits for Blaine at his locker in the morning. "So, um. Are you in lots of trouble?" he asks before Blaine even reaches it.

Blaine purses his lips for a second. "You could say that. Apparently we broke a vase, and my mother insisted the tablecloth is ruined forever after she figured out what we did on it." He doesn't add that that the tablecloth and the vase were shockingly expensive and his mother is making him work off the replacement cost. At minimum wage, which is what she informed him his labor around the house is worth, it's going to take him months to pay her back. "And, uh, you're not really invited over for a while."

"Yeah, I figured." This doesn't surprise Sam in the least, as he recalls the look of pure wrath on Blaine's mother face when she stormed into his bedroom clutching the clothes Blaine discarded in the dining room. "Dude, I'm so..."

"Don't apologize," Blaine tells him. It was so worth it. "So, what are you gonna do with that thing?"

"I dunno," Sam admits. He had intended to come up with a plan as soon as he got home, but then he had fallen asleep immediately, totally exhausted even after his naked nap with Blaine. "Ask me again in glee. Maybe I'll know by then."

By glee time, however, Sam is still undecided.

Blaine suggests, "Why don't you sing something? Then at least we can see if it really makes a difference."

"I thought we already established that it does. You said my singing was amazing."

"Yeah, well." Blaine feels his cheeks heat up at the memory. He whispers, "I maybe wasn't in a state of mind to be totally impartial when you sang 'Like a Virgin' to me in that tiny little..." Crap, Blaine, don't get hard here in the choir room. Sam isn't even in the uniform; you're just remembering it.

"Okay, good point. So I'll sing that and see—"

"No! Something different!" Blaine will never be able to listen to that song again, especially not to Sam singing it. "It should, uh, be something you've sung before for everyone. So they can compare. Oh, but the theme this week is..."

"Dude, I sang 'Baby' for anthems week. The theme is a suggestion at most."

They decide on "You've Lost that Lovin' Feelin'," and Blaine mentally prepares a case for how it fits the theme just in case Sam is challenged on it.

He's not.

After he finishes, the group is silent for a few second before bursting into raucous applause. Jake and Ryder stand. Marley looks like she might have cried a little during the performance. Mr. Schuester shakes his head in wonder. "Sam, that was...wow. The first time you sang that song was good, but this was just...have you been practicing that number?"

"Not exactly."

"I can't put my finger on what was different this time," Artie says, "but I wasn't tempted to look at my phone once."

Mr. Schue puts his arm around Sam's shoulder and says, "Everyone, this is the level our game needs to be at for nationals. Great job, Sam!" Everyone claps again, except Kitty, who has an expression he can't read. But then, he's used to that from her. "All right, who wants to go next?"

"Blaine does," Sam says.

"I do?"

"Of course you do." Sam gives him a look. They have to see if it affected him too.

Blaine stands and goes to the front of the room and tries to think of a song they've all heard him sing, which means nothing from last year, nothing from when Mr. Schuester was in D.C... "Blaine, if you don't have a song prepared..." Mr. Schue starts...

"'I Still Believe'" Blaine tells the band quickly. Thank god they remember it.

After his song, and more enthusiastic applause, Mr. Schuester tells him, "If you'd sung it like that during your sing-off with Sue you would have won."

Tina, bless her, defends him: "Blaine was robbed. What was wrong with all of you, anyway?" She glances around the room indignantly. "But, Blaine, I think Mr. Schue is right that it was even better this time."

Kitty manages to corner them both right after practice, before Sam even gets a chance to talk to Unique. "So which one of you was the girl?"

Sam immediately feels his face go beet red. "Wh-what are you..."

"It was a rhetorical question. I've seen the way you're walking today, Samantha."

"Look, Kitty," Blaine says. He's managing to play it a lot cooler than Sam could even dream of, though his cheeks are a little pinker than normal too. "I don't know what you think—"

Kitty holds up a hand preemptively. "Save it. No one's performance improves like that for no reason. And I'm thinking the reason is probably inside that backpack you're clutching to your chest." She knew something was up from the way he's been guarding that thing all day, and now it all makes sense.

Sam just stares at her, totally dumbfounded. Blaine's the one who realizes how she figured it out, and he whispers to Sam, "She's a Cheerio. They probably all—"

"That's right, we all know about Brittany's special uniform, which is now Sam's special uniform, apparently."

"What do you want?" Blaine asks.

Kitty smiles sweetly. "I want to help the team, of course."

"You want to...oh!"

"I've really missed Brittany since she left," Kitty says. Brittany was a total slut, and such an airhead, but Kitty did enjoy helping the team with her.

"You've...oh!" Sam gets a distinct mental image of Brittany and Kitty naked together. He has no idea what Kitty likes to do in those situations, but he knows that Brittany is crazy talented with her tongue, so...

Kitty pats him patronizingly on the cheek. "The uniform doesn't even work for most people. I tried wearing it, Bree tried wearing it...It must react with a certain type of...brain wave." She turns to Blaine and says, "I'd invite you to join us, but...you know." She takes Sam by the hand and pulls him toward the door.

"Wait!" Blaine calls just as they're about to leave. Kitty pays him no mind, but Sam stops and turns to look at him questioningly. "Sam, you don't have to do this."

Sam gives him a confused look. "Dude, are you crazy?"

Oh. That's right. Sam probably finds her attractive. He stands back and watches helplessly as his friend (only)—his straight friend—gets willingly dragged off to fuck a cute blonde cheerleader.

Sam follows her silently to the parking lot and squeezes into her Mini Cooper. "So..." he says as they're fastening their seat belts. He's never really hung out with Kitty much, but it seems like he should try to make small talk at least. "You and Brittany?"

"Don't even try to get any lurid details out of me," she says, backing out of her parking spot. "I don't kiss and tell." She puts the car in drive and adds, "Not that there was much kissing."

And so they don't really converse during the drive. Sam has no idea where Kitty lives and so he doesn't think there's anything unusual about the way she's taking him. But when she parks in front of a duplex that he's been to before, he exclaims, "This is Puck's house!"

"Duh," she says as she drops her keys in her purse. "You don't really think I'd do what we're planning to do in my own house, do you?"

"But...Puck!"

"I called and told him I was bringing you over," she assures him. "We're pals still, he's fine with it."

"Yeah, okay." He still thinks it's a little weird...but then, Puck has always seemed fine with his pals getting laid. So what if one of the pals in question happens to be his ex-girlfriend? It's not like they ever seemed to be that serious.

Kitty marches up to the porch and takes a key out from under a potted plant, muttering about how Puck's family would totally deserve to be burglarized daily for being so obvious. She leads Sam upstairs to Puck's room, where she immediately strips the sheets off the unmade bed. He stands there watching her until she says, "Well? Go change in the bathroom while I'm putting some clean sheets on." She pushes past him on her way to the laundry room or something—Sam's been here before, but he doesn't know the house's layout as well as Kitty obviously does.

Sam changes into the uniform and waits for Kitty in the bedroom. He knows he's going to feel very turned on as soon as they see each other, but right now he just feels weird standing around in Puck's room, by himself, wearing his ex-girlfriend's cheerleading outfit. He hears Kitty knock, but not that close, and he realizes she's probably outside the bathroom door. "I'm in Puck's room!" he calls to her.

"Are you changed already?"

"Yeah."

"Well, stand in the closet then. I don't want to see you until I get clean sheets on the bed."

Oh, that's a good point; Sam didn't even think of that. He gets in the closet—even though it smells kind of bad, like as if Puck puts his dirty clothes in there or something—and closes the door and tells Kitty it's safe to come in. He hears her moving around, but she doesn't actually say anything. But then Sam thinks of something, and he's really glad they haven't seen each other yet. "Do you have any condoms?" he asks through the door. "Or do you think Puck does? Because I didn't think..."

Kitty laughs. "Tell me you're not serious."

"I know I probably should have thought of it before now, but—"

"You know Sue designed that outfit for Brittany, right?"

"Uh...yeah."

"And you think she just trusted Brittany to be responsible enough not to get knocked up while slutting around with anyone and everyone?"

"Hey! You can't call my ex a slut."

"Right. Because what she had with you was special," Kitty sneers. "My point is that the uniform makes pregnancy impossible."

"Seriously?" He already knew this outfit was amazing, but now he really has to hand it to Coach Sylvester.

"She couldn't have her star getting knocked up, now could she? Or getting AIDS or crabs or anything—it prevents STDs too."

"Holy fucking..."

"Speaking of which. I hope you don't think I'm going to let you stick it in."

How Sam probably should respond is something like Oh of course, I would never assume we were going to do that. That's what he realizes a split second after his actual response, which is a petulant, "What!? Why not?"

"Because I'm a Christian."

"Well, yeah, me too, but..."

"Not much of one, apparently," he hears Kitty mutter, right before she adds, "That's what I would say if I were the judgmental type. But that's God's job, not mine. My job is to follow God's law and remain a virgin until my wedding night."

Sam laughs. He actually thinks she's joking because...come on!

"What's so funny?" He can hear that she's really close to the door now.

"I'm sorry. I wouldn't laugh if I thought..." It's not like he wouldn't respect someone who was sincere about wanting to wait. But Kitty? "I mean...you went out with Puck! And you had sex with Brittany!"

"I never once let Puck put it in." She doesn't mention that there are a couple holes she did let Puck put it in—she never let him put it in the important one, and that's all that counts. "And Brittany doesn't even have anything to put in. Besides, Brittany and I just shared orgasms for the good of the team. That's not even remotely sex."

"Um, okay." Sam really doesn't see the distinction, but now he just really wants to get out of Puck's closet, which is hot and uncomfortable. He's honestly not even that interested in sharing orgasms with Kitty for the good of the team anymore, whatever that means. "Look, I'm sorry I offended you. Why don't we just...if you can just go in the other room I'm gonna go change back into my own clothes, and—"

"Absolutely not!" Kitty declares as she flings open the closet door.

Sam totally doesn't know what made him think for even a second that he might not want to do this—whatever this Kitty will allow—because holy fuck, Kitty is hot. They're wearing identical outfits, and hers looks so good on her. He admires the way she fills out the top, and...holy shit, is that the outline of a nipple? Does she not even have a bra on? Please, please let her not have a bra on. He pulls her top off and she doesn't have a bra on! He places a hand over each breast and squeezes them. Damn, he can't wait to see them bounce while he...well, he's still not actually sure what he gets to do with her, exactly.

Fortunately Kitty seems to know exactly what she's doing. She glides her hands under Sam's spanks and gropes his ass pretty much the exact same way he's groping her tits. Except she doesn't do it long; soon she's pushing the spanks down to his knees. She takes hers all the way off and sets them on Puck's desk, and Sam gets a little glimpse of her ass peeking out from under the cheer leading skirt. Before he gets a chance to even try to touch it, she pushes him into a chair—forgetting all about the bed she just changed the sheets on—and sits on his lap, straddling one of his thighs.

She's so wet already. It's been less than a minute probably, and yet he can feel her slickness on his leg—if she stood up and walked away (god, no!) there would be a shiny, glistening spot on his skin. Not that he should be so surprised: he went from zero to sixty boner-wise in an equally short amount of time.

Kitty really doesn't have orgasms easily—even with the powerful multispeed vibrator Puck bought her, it takes considerable time and concentration—except with special-uniform-Brittany...and now, she can already tell, special-uniform-Sam. Honestly, whenever she was with Brittany she worried that she was a secret lesbian. But, no, she's at least as turned on now—probably more so, because she actually legitimately finds Sam attractive (even before now). She almost wishes this could go on longer than she knows it will.

Not that she even seriously considers trying to go slowly. She's a civilized human being and a Christian and she's not a slave to her body's desires—except when she is, like right now. But it's not her fault, it's the uniform! Sue Sylvester will probably go to hell for making it, but that's not Kitty's concern. Especially right now. Right now all she can think about is grabbing Sam's shoulders for balance and grinding furiously against him.

Sam grabs her ass and pulls and pushes her along his leg. This is a little weird for him—Brittany has humped his leg before, but only during foreplay; Kitty seems to think of it as the main event, at least until whatever she's going to do for him. And whenever they get to that, it can't be soon enough. His cock is starting to ache already. Kitty's knee is brushing against his balls now and then, and it sends a pleasurable jolt through him each time, but it's not nearly enough. Her ass feels firm and ripe under his fingers and her perky little tits with her hard pink nipples are bouncing like crazy and he can't wait for this part to be over.

Kitty feels her orgasm start to build inside her. This is when Brittany would always kiss her, why isn't Sam kissing her? She slides her hand up to grasp the back of his head and pulls it to hers. They just barely get their lips together before it hits, she just barely has time to tell Sam, "Keep kissing me" before she has to throw her head back and let out the animal noises that prove she's not a civilized human being at all, she's a depraved, carnal beast.

Sam holds her tight while she bucks roughly against him. He kisses her neck, and her screaming is so loud—it's right by his ear, but it would be loud even if he were across the room. Her whole body is smooshed up against his and he wishes he could have taken his top off so he could feel her skin against his. Her back, where his hands are, and her neck, where his mouth is, are so hot. And sweaty. He sort of didn't think Kitty was capable of sweating; she's always so composed and together. Right now she's the exact opposite, she's completely out of control, and it's driving him crazy.

Kitty thrashes and screams, screams and thrashes, just letting the orgasm take control of her completely. It feels like releasing years' worth of built-up tension, and when it ends—almost as abruptly as it started—she's completely drained, unable to do anything but slump against Sam and try to catch her breath. She hears Sam ask if it was good, which is such a stupid question that she wouldn't answer it even if she had the energy to.

Sam reaches between them to stroke his cock. It does nothing—nothing. He needs her...some way, any way. "Kitty, please."

Kitty doesn't lift her head off his shoulder. "Please what?" Then she notices that his hips are moving and where his hand is and asks, "Didn't you climax too?"

"No! And I need to really bad."

Kitty really wishes he could just take care of it himself, but she knows it doesn't work that way. She sighs and says, "As long as you don't try to stick it in and I don't have to do anything, go nuts."

Sam picks her up and lays her on Puck's bed. She's so limp—he can tell she wasn't joking about not being willing to do anything. He straddles one of her legs and rubs his cock up the length of her thigh. It's such a relief, he pretty much doesn't even care that it's about the most ridiculous way he could possibly get himself off. As he rubs against her furiously, rocking both her and the bed back and forth, her tits jiggling all over the place give him another idea. He kisses and licks them desperately, eventually eliciting the first reaction from Kitty since he laid her down: a giggle and a "That tickles."

When they're glistening with his spit—and if they looked good before, they look amazing now—he tries to crawl up her. But he can't with the stupid spanks still around his knees, so he takes them off and ties them around his wrist like he did with Blaine. He straddles her chest and holds her tits up and pushes them together. He rubs his dick between them, though it's awkward with no arms free to steady himself.

Kitty opens her eyes and gives him an incredulous look. "Really? You're going to titty fuck me?"

Sam doesn't miss the condescension in her voice, but he can't even be embarrassed, not even by how desperate his own voice sounds as he says, "Please, Kitty."

Kitty studies him for a few seconds and decides to take pity on the poor boy. "Fine. But if you get semen on my face I will cut you."

"I won't, Kitty," Sam agrees quickly. "I promise."

Kitty nods and even holds her breasts in place for him. It really isn't any weirder than some of the things Brittany did to her to get off. Like the time Brittany flipped her onto her stomach and humped her butt cheek to orgasm.

Sam knows objectively that this is not the best sex he's had in the last couple days, but at the moment it feels like it is. Kitty's boobs are awesome, especially how the way she's holding them makes the nipples pop right out. And they're so soft, but firm enough to really hug his cock as it slides up and down between them. He leans down to lick one of them, and Kitty makes a noise—he's not even sure what it is, another giggle maybe—but there's something about it...Maybe it's that he can actually feel it reverberate through his balls, which are resting heavily on her chest...Anyway it sets him off before he can even remember his promise not to come on her face. The come just gushes out of his throbbing cock in long, powerful ropes that paint Kitty's neck and chin...and maybe a little bit close to her eye.

"I'm sorry!" he gasps as soon as he realizes what he's done. He hopes she'll believe him. He really is sorry, but he also knows he's smiling uncontrollably because that was awesome. He tries to clean it off her with the spanks around his wrist, but she pushes his hand away and pushes him off her. She rolls out of bed and pulls a t-shirt out of Puck's dresser instead. "I really am sorry," he repeats, trying not to smile this time.

"Don't worry about it," Kitty says. It was pretty gross, but she's still in too good a post-orgasm mood to be really mad. And she knows how hard that uniform makes it to control oneself. She puts her clothes back on and says, "Well, I better get out of here before we're stuck doing that again."

She kind of hopes Sam will tell to stay so they can do it again, but he doesn't. Instead he says, "Okay. I'll get changed too and then you can drive me home."

"I really don't want to stick around. I'm sure Puck will give you a ride home."

"Kitty! It won't take me long to get dressed. I don't wanna have to wait around here until god knows when for Puck to get home just so I can ask him for a lift."

"But Puck wants a turn with you too. And don't even try to act gay-panicked because I know you did it with Blaine."

"But..." No, Sam isn't gay-panicking, he's just pretty sure Kitty is wrong that Puck would want to... "What even makes you think..."

"Because I..." Kitty stops when they hear the front door open and close.

"Kitty? Evans? Is it safe to come up?" Yep, that's Puck all right.

"Not exactly," Sam answers, but his response is drowned out by Kitty's much louder, "We're in your room. Come on in!"


	5. Puck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puck wants to help the team too. Well, that and do something he's been wanting to try for a while now.

And then Kitty is just gone, and Sam is stranded in Puck's bedroom with hardly any time to come up with a plan.

His first thought is to take the Cheerios outfit off. Much as he doesn't want Puck to walk in on him naked in Puck's bedroom, having just titty-fucked Puck's ex-girlfriend on Puck's bed, it's a vastly superior alternative to having Puck see him in the uniform and have to fuck him.

But then he remembers: the nineteen-minute window! He has plenty of time to walk back to the bathroom and put his own clothes back on. He's still not crazy about the idea of seeing Puck right now—no matter how cool with it Kitty claims he'll be—but it'll be better with clothes on. Best if they're boy clothes, but the Cheerios skirt will still be better than nothing. And the spanks! he remembers, untying them from his wrist. He doesn't need Puck to see his junk hanging out.

As he's peeking out the door to see if the coast is clear, he wonders about what Kitty said, about Puck wanting a turn with him. It could be true. Like if Kitty told him about how all the straight Cheerio girls turned lesbian for uniform-Brittany, then Puck could think it's worth a try. And Sam himself has seen how the uniform can turn him gay—so far only for Blaine, which wasn't maybe that much of a stretch, but still—so he can't say he's totally opposed to the idea of letting Puck fuck him. Just...not now. Puck is pretty hung, as Sam has not managed to go a couple years showering with the guy without noticing, and his ass still hurts from Blaine. So.

The hallway is empty (not that he'd have much other choice if it weren't) so he steps out into it. But immediately he hears someone on the stairs and—because he cannot catch a break apparently—sees the top of a mohawk. "Hey, Puck," he says, because there's no way Puck isn't going to know he's there. "Kitty said it would be cool with you if we came over here to...uh..." He stammers and can't go on, and it's not because he doesn't know how to say what he and Kitty were doing in Puck's room. It's because Puck is visible now from the chest up, and Sam fucking wants him. But how!? "I should have at least fourteen minutes left," he says—to himself, really, but out loud.

Puck chuckles. "You only get a break in between having to do the same person twice," he says. "Don't you know anything about how that magical costume works?"

"Wait, you know all about it too?"

"Less talking, Evans. What do you think the nineteen minutes after are for?" Puck's at the top of the stairs now. He eyes Sam hungrily. The kid is hot. He's always known that, but of course he's never wanted him this bad before. He's mostly into chicks.

Mostly.

And there's one thing he's never tried with a guy before, and since his one-time male fuck-buddy isn't interested anymore, this is a perfect opportunity. That's what he thought when Kitty told him Sam had the uniform and it was working again—that's what he thought when he was driving home psyching himself up for this. Now all he's thinking is that, holy fuck, Evans is hot.

Sam is standing with his back against the wall, and he looks half terrified. Completely turned on, but still half terrified. And Puck's not a total asshole, no matter what people think, and he doesn't want to do anything Sam doesn't want...though obviously he does want it, because just look at how hard and huge his cock is, practically bursting through the red material that's stretchy as hell, but not stretchy enough...

Puck can't not kiss him, but he uses some restraint. He doesn't kiss him nearly as hard as he wants to, he doesn't kiss and grind...he doesn't even use any tongue, for god's sake. He wants his tongue in Sam's mouth, he wants Sam's tongue in his mouth, but he holds off and covers his neck and collar bone in lips-only kisses that aren't nearly enough. "What's wrong?" he asks desperately. "I know you want me too, what's wrong?"

Sam is kind of forgetting what was wrong, actually. So it'll hurt tomorrow, so what? "I do want you too. Just...take it easy, okay? It's not that I don't want you to fuck me hard, it's just—"

So that's what he was worried about. Puck can totally put his mind at ease, and he will...after he finally kisses him the way he wants. He presses him against the wall, practically into the wall, and lets his tongue plunge into Sam's mouth. He grinds and Sam grinds right back—Sam grinds and wraps his legs around his waist. Sam whimpers when Puck pulls his mouth away—neither of them stops grinding. "I'm not going to fuck you," he says, right into Sam's ear because he doesn't want to move his mouth any farther away than he has to.

"Yeah. Okay," Sam says. "I'll probably come from this anyway."

"Not unless we lose the clothes," Puck says, because he knows that skin-on-skin is the only way it works with that uniform. "But that's not what I mean. I want you to fuck me."

"Fuck." It actually didn't even occur to Sam before this moment that Puck would want that, would even consider it. It sounds so good, but still he asks, "You sure, man?"

"Real sure."

Puck's always been curious—curious being the strongest word he's willing to admit to, even in his own head—ever since...

Well, it was like this. He and Finn messed around a few times back in high school, during their dry periods. Well, every period was dry for Finn, but during Puck's dry periods. Or when Finn was especially frustrated while first Quinn and then Rachel wasn't putting out. It was mostly just hand jobs, with the occasional drunk oral.

And then Finn found out that Kurt was thinking about going all the way with Blaine, and he was worried about him. He was protective of Kurt by that time—he really thought of him as a little brother—and he didn't want him to get hurt.

Puck tried to tell him that Kurt was going to be fine. That he'd given it to a few girls in the ass and they didn't even cry or anything. And that guys, he had read, actually liked it.

No, he hadn't been reading about gay sex online because he was into it. He was only looking up info on the prostate because Finn tried to tell his mom had cancer in hers. Dumbass. Anyway, the prostate—which guys have but girls and moms don't—can make a dude come just from getting fucked. That's what he read. So Finn should be happy for his little bro.

Anyway it was Finn's idea. He wasn't going to be okay with his brother taking some dude's cock up his ass until he knew what it was going to feel like.

Or who knows? Maybe he just wanted Puck to fuck him and didn't want to come out and ask him to.

But...no. Finn's not the conniving kind. Maybe some part of him just wanted Puck to fuck him, but if so, that part would have had to convince the part that actually asked Puck to fuck him that concern for Kurt was the real reason.

Or whatever. Point is, Finn asked Puck to fuck him and Puck said yes. And it was kind of awesome.

That is, fucking someone is pretty much always awesome—as long as they don't rip out half your mohawk or something—so no surprise there. Plus Puck's always kind of had a thing for anal, not just because it's so hot and tight back there, but also because most girls give it up a lot less easily. He likes a challenge sometimes.

But what was surprising was that Finn thought it was pretty awesome too. He could have been faking the moaning and stuff, Puck guesses—"Oh god, Puck, right there! Fuck, fuck, fuck, do it again right there!"—though he doesn't know why he would. But there's no way he could have faked coming so hard: the muscles contracting like crazy around Puck's cock, the creamy come stains all over Puck's sheets... Puck came really hard in his ass, but not half as hard as Finn himself seemed to.

The more Puck thought about it in the days and weeks that followed (thought about it and jerked off to his thoughts about it), the more he wanted to try it with the positions reversed. Just to see, you know.

Problem was, Finn didn't want to talk about it, like, at all. Didn't want to acknowledge what they'd done, much less how much he'd apparently enjoyed it. Didn't want to talk any more about his worries about Kurt taking that step with Blaine. Didn't even want to go back to their occasional hand- and blowjobs.

So, fine, whatever. Puck could still get as much action as he wanted—well, not always as much as he wanted, but always a respectable amount—with chicks. And that stuck-up Warbler dude he fucked that one time, because the dude wanted it and why not. But he didn't know stuck-up Warbler dude nearly well enough to let him pop his ass cherry.

The few guys he trusted enough either weren't gay or were gay but were in a relationship. Not that either bothered him especially, but it tended to bother his potential partners. Kurt never picked up on his hints even. When Blaine figured out what he was doing he told him to back off. Even though Puck tried to explain the offer was open to both of them! No strings attached!

The only reason he had never hit on Sam before was he was sure he wouldn't be interested. But now! That fucking uniform makes the person wearing it interested in anyone and everyone. God bless Sue Sylvester! (Batshit crazy though she is.)

"You're really sure?" Sam asks again, even as he's groping Puck's ass through his jeans. Now that Puck has offered, Sam feels like he's never wanted anything more, like he'll die if he can't get inside Puck's ass. But he knows he won't really die, and he doesn't want to do it if Puck hasn't thought this through. The phlebotinum can make people kind of crazy, make them say things they might not totally understand the consequences of. "Cause I mean, I don't even know how patient I can be getting you ready and stuff."

"Dude, I know. I took care of it." As soon as Kitty called him he started taking care of it.

Kitty and he are...they were never in love, obviously—neither of them does in love. They had some crazy hot sex, or near-sex as Kitty would call it. She's one of those everything-but girls. Including, sometimes, being an everything-butt girl. But that isn't the weird thing about them. The weird thing about is that they actually kind of get each other.

If Puck had dated her in high school he never would have opened up to her about some of the shit he did—top of the list being his burning desire to get fucked in the ass some time. Just once! Out of curiosity. But he's not in high school anymore, and what's the point of getting the hell out of high school if you're just going to keep worrying about the same shit?

So he mentioned it. Maybe more than once. Maybe enough times that she made a totally serious offer to buy a strap-on and fuck his ass. And he would have taken her up on it, except...well, this was after they stopped almost-fucking, for one thing. And strap-ons are expensive—they looked at some online—and she would probably never use it more than the one time. (Not even with Brittany because Brittany had more than one of her own.) But mainly it was because Puck didn't think it would give him the real experience.

And since had they talked about it, maybe more than once, and since that's the kind of pals they are now, Kitty called him when she found out about Sam and the uniform. And Puck immediately sprang into action.

He was in the middle of grocery shopping when she called him. He abandoned his cart in the middle of the cereal aisle and headed straight to the sex toy shop where he got Kitty that top-of-the-line vibrator because she always had such a hard time getting off. (Not that it was a totally selfless gift or anything, because watching girls come is super hot.)

Not seeing any reason to be shy in a sex toy shop, he marched up to the chick at the counter and said, "I'm gonna get my ass fucked in less than an hour, first time for me, gonna have to be ready to get down to business as soon as I see the guy. What do you recommend?"

"Foreplay," the chick said matter-of-factly. "I don't think getting down to business as soon as you see him is a good idea."

"Maybe not. But that's the way it's gonna be. So if you don't have any products you wanna sell me..."

"I'll sell you stuff that'll help. I just want to be on record saying this is a bad idea, and you're probably going to get hurt, and don't try to sue me when you do."

"Deal. So I guess I'll need some of your heavy-dutiest lube and, what? Like a butt plug? I still have to drive home, and I thought I could use the commute time to, like, multitask."

The chick shook her head a little but just asked, "Any idea how big the guy is?"

Before he could stop himself he smirked and answered, "Almost as big as me." He might have gone for his belt buckle—not to actually whip it out but to imply that he was willing to—if the ice-cold look she gave him hadn't told him it would be a very, very bad move. She helped him find and purchase a suitable plug and told him he absolutely could not use the staff restroom before he left, so he had to duck into a nearby McDonalds.

Having never shoved a foreign object up his ass before—much less one he intended to leave lodged in place for a while—Puck did not find the less-than-spacious McDonalds bathroom stall the easiest place to do so. He may have grunted a little. Worse...he may have whimpered a little.

But he got the fucking thing in. It wasn't the most pleasurable thing he'd ever done to himself (not even the most pleasurable thing he'd ever done to himself in a McDonalds restroom), and he got some uncomfortable looks from a couple guys washing their hands when he emerged from his stall, but fuck it.

Driving home, the plastic stick in his rectum felt more...more weird than anything else. Puck's truck doesn't have the best shocks, and when he hit his first pothole it was pretty damn unpleasant. By the third or fourth pothole he didn't mind so much, and by the time he got to his own street...well, he knows where every pothole on his block is, and he always avoids them. Except today.

And now! Hot as hell Sam in that skimpy little uniform squeezing his ass, unknowingly pushing the plug farther up into his ass with every touch...yeah, this is the best idea Puck has ever had. "Unwrap your legs from me."

Sam whines piteously instead, squeezes his wraps his legs tighter, grinds against Puck's cock harder.

"Dude, I love what you're doing there, but you gotta let me get my pants off and show you my ass."

Sam immediately disentangles his legs and opens Puck's belt for him. Then his button and zipper, then he gets his pants pushed down past his hips. "You're going commando!"

Puck doesn't even have time to respond that fuck right he's going commando—he knew he wasn't going to want any extra layers slowing them down—before Sam's got him turned around and pressed up against the hallway wall. He hopes to god his mom isn't going to be home any time soon, though he's not worried enough about it to actually tell Sam to wait a minute while they move into his room.

Sam kneels behind Puck and pushes his jeans down to his ankles. He kisses up his thigh and nips at an ass cheek before he grabs it, pulls it away from the other one, and sees..."Holy fuck, is that...?"

"Yeah." Puck rests his head against the wall and pushes his ass back against Sam's hands. "There's more lube in the left front pocket, so just slick yourself up and take the fake one out and put the real one in."

"Holy fuck," Sam says again. He reaches into Puck's front pocket with his left hand and gropes his cock with his right.

"Shit! Oh shit!" Puck was not expecting the hand-on-cock contact at this moment, and it totally electrifies him. "I fucking love you, man." Sam freezes for a second, which makes Puck realize what he just said. "Sorry! Sorry, I just meant..."

"It's cool," Sam says. He loves Puck too right now. He's still at least half in love with everyone he's messed around with in the last couple days, in fact. Lube bottle in hand, he stands, pulls off his spanks, and ties them around his wrist. (Is it weird that this move is almost second nature already?) He coats his dick in lube and, while he should be used to this too by now, it has not stopped surprising and frustrating the hell out of him that touching his own cock provides no relief at all.

"Ooooh, shit!" Puck doubles over as the plug is pulled out of his ass way too abruptly. He's not even sure if it was just a shock or if it actually hurt like hell, and before he can figure it out he feels the tip of Sam's cock poking at his entrance and he forgets all about everything else. "Fuck me!" he orders. "Fucking fuck me already!"

And it's not like Sam really needs the encouragement. He braces himself with one hand on Puck's hip and one on the wall in front of him and pushes in. There's resistance, despite the plug that was filling Puck's ass for however long, and he tries not to hurt him. But when he slows down, Puck tells him, "Come on, man, I'm not a delicate flower."

"Greedy for it much, Puckerman?"

"Fuck you, Evans. I bet you needed it just as bad when you let Anderson plow you."

"Yeah," Sam admits, not even bothering to wonder how Puck knows about that.

He knows that Puck might be more cautious if it weren't for the special circumstances. But he's not made of stone.

And it's perfect, it's so perfect he can't even think about how Puck's going to be sore after, even though he knows from experience that Puck is going to be sore after. But he also knows, if Puck is anything like him, that he's not going to care, not even afterwards. And so he lets go of every concern, of every thought really, and just loses himself in the sensation of Puck's tight hole gripping his cock so perfectly as he slams in again and again and again.

Puck is totally overwhelmed. He fucked Brittany in this uniform—many times—so it's not a surprise exactly, how intense it is. But he's never been on this side of a fucking before, and it really...he kind of knew he'd like it no matter what just because of the uniform, but he can't believe it's this good. That stuff he read about prostates is totally true, and he's going to blow just from Sam nailing him, not even touching his cock or anything. Just from taking it.

He likes that. He may have told a girl or two to take it while he was pounding her. And that stuck-up Warbler. "Tell me to take it," he says.

Sam vaguely registers that Puck said something. "Huh?"

"Tell me to take it. Say, 'Take it!' when you fuck me."

"Take it, whore," Sam says as he slams into him again. "Take my cock, you little slut!"

"Fuck! Oh...fuck!" Puck's muscles seize up—only his hips are moving as he starts frantically and totally involuntarily humping the hallway wall. He roars with pleasure as he unloads on the floral wallpaper his nana helped his mom pick out many years ago.

Sam continues to fuck him throughout, telling him with each thrust to fucking take it. But it's not like he can possibly keep going for that much longer, not with the way Puck's ass is squeezing and tugging. "Oh god," he pants. "I'm gonna fill your ass with come. Take my come, whore...fucking...take it." And he gives it to him, shoots his ass so full of his fucking come that it's probably going to spray out his eye sockets.

They both go still, lacking the energy to move or even speak. But the pull of gravity is strong, and eventually Sam topples over, pulling Puck on top of him.

"So..." Sam starts. But he doesn't know where to go with that thought. So instead he lets his hand up under Puck's t-shirt and rubs his back.

Puck nestles his head into Sam's shoulder and lets his eyes close. "Don't fall asleep," he says out loud, though it's mostly to himself. "Or we'll have to do this again in about nineteen minutes." And it's not that it sounds unappealing, it's just that he's exhausted.

"Yeah, how do you know so—"

Sam can't finish asking how he knows so much about the uniform, because Puck's hand is suddenly covering his mouth. "Someone's home." He listens carefully to the footsteps downstairs, the dropping of something on the kitchen table, the opening of the refrigerator door. "It's my sister, not my mom. She's gonna get a snack so we have time to..."

But the footsteps are coming toward the stairs now, and Puck realizes he was only half right: yes, it's his sister, but she's not staying in the kitchen for a few minutes. And he curses himself because if he'd remembered to pick up some of her fruity yogurt parfait thingies like she'd asked him to, she would be having that snack first.

He scrambles off Sam and pulls his jeans up. Then he notices that Sam is still lying on the floor, frozen and wide-eyed with panic. "Dude, put your underwear thingies back on!"

Sam shakes his head and snaps out of it. "Right!" He unties the spanks from his wrist and quickly pulls them on. But just as he sees the top of a young girl's head he realizes this is the exact opposite of what he should have done—better Puck's little sister should see him naked than in the Cheerios uniform! "Oh fuck, dude."

Realization flashes across Puck's face and he instinctively moves in front of Sam while yelling, "Don't come upstairs!"

But it's too late.


	6. Ryder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder wonders why Sam is carrying around a Cheerios uniform in his backpack but doesn't believe Sam's explanation.

"Dude, you touch my sister and I'll fucking kill you."

"I don't wanna touch your sister!" Puck's sister is only around his own sister's age, like...shit, how old is Stacey now? Like ten or so, he thinks. "Hold me back or something, tie me up if you have to..."

Puck slams him against the wall and holds him against it with his own body, arms spread wide. "For the love of God, Jordan, go back downstairs!" he yells at his sister.

But she just keeps coming.

Sam closes his eyes and tries to make himself as small as possible behind Puck.

Jordan is there now, at the top of the stairs. "Close your eyes at least!" Puck yells at her.

"Puck, I already know you're part gay," she says, crossing her arms. "I didn't know you liked to dress your boyfriends up like girls, but..." She peers behind him and says, "Oh, hi, Sam. No offense or anything."

"None taken," Sam says. He forgets for a second that he can't look at her and he opens his eyes and...and nothing. He doesn't feel even remotely like doing Puck's sister.

"Wait, you can see him?" Puck asks.

"Is he supposed to be a ninja or something?"

"But I mean...you see him and you're not acting crazy."

"Um, no, that would be you two," she says. "I thought you were going to stop at the store, Noah, but there's nothing to eat."

"Uh." Puck guesses it's safe, but he doesn't want to free Sam until his sister is out of sight. "Yeah. Something came up. Sorry."

"Will you make me a grilled cheese?"

"Make your own grilled cheese," Puck tells her, even though she's not supposed to use the stove when their mom's not there.

"No-ah..." she whines. "If you would've stopped at the store I wouldn't need a grilled cheese."

"Fine! Go downstairs right now and I'll be down in a second to make you a grilled cheese."

"Thanks!" She looks at Sam, then back at her brother. She shakes her finger at Puck and says, "But I'm not waiting forever. No more making out or whatever it is you two are doing."

"Go!"

Jordan scampers downstairs and Puck lets Sam out from behind him. "So I guess it doesn't work on kids," he says.

"Thank god. I'm surprised you didn't know that, though. You seem to know everything else about it, and how is that, exactly?"

"Brittany, obviously," Puck says. "I fucked her tons of times wearing that thing. The whole football team did. Dude, you gotta get your own clothes back on, I don't know how long it's been."

"Right." Sam definitely doesn't want to have to fuck Puck again with Puck's little sister around. He walks toward the bathroom but keeps talking. "But that's bullshit. I never fucked her when I was on the team. I never even heard any of the other guys mention it. I mean, I don't have the best memory, but I'm pretty sure it's something I would've remembered if someone mentioned it."

Sam's in the bathroom now, but Puck's standing right outside the door. "That's cause you weren't here the whole time. She fucked everyone on the football team all through freshman and sophomore years, but then come junior year...supposedly Coach Sylvester had laid down the law that she could only use it with the other Cheerios. But personally I think it was Santana who laid down that particular law."

"Fucking...Santana!" For such a supposedly slutty girl she was a total cockblock.

"I know, right? Such a tragic waste."

"But then how come Brittany never wore it with me when we were going out? It's not like I wasn't fucking her anyway."

"No idea, bro. You almost done in there? Cause I know it's probably safe, but I wanna see you leave this house in your own clothes so I can lock all the doors and make my little sister a grilled cheese sandwich in peace. No offense."

"None taken." Sam stuffs the Cheerios uniform into his backpack and puts his regular clothes back on. He props a foot up on the edge of the tub to tie his shoe and tries for a normal, conversational tone as he says, "So. Your sister said something about already knowing you're part gay?"

"All right," Puck says. "Time to get the hell out of my house."

He gets the hell out of Puck's house, only to realize he's more or less stranded way on the other side of town from the Hudmels'. He'd call Kitty for a ride—she's the one who stranded him, after all—but he doesn't even have her number. So he starts walking and calling people whose numbers he does have.

Finn says he can pick him up in a little over an hour, after his last class at the university. He should just walk, he knows that, but he doesn't feel like it. He's tired from Kitty and Puck, and plus he kind of hates walking. Running he doesn't mind at all, but he's not dressed for it. So he tells Finn fine and tries to think of someplace he can wait around for an hour and some change.

Ryder's house isn't far, so he decides to try there even though he was the first person Sam tried calling and he didn't answer.

Ryder is in his bedroom with his phone off and his door shut, even though no one else is home or will be for hours. He's just found his favorite video again—he wishes he could just download it or at least bookmark it or something, but he's pretty sure his dad checks his computer regularly.

The video starts with a long fellatio sequence that's kind of monotonous, so he skips ahead. It's not that he doesn't like receiving blowjobs. That is, he never actually has, but he assumes it would be awesome. It's just that watching some other dude get one doesn't really do it for him. He's not a big fan of other guys' dicks, which is mostly what there is to look at in the blowjob scenes.

He restarts the video at the part where it starts to get good, the part where the girl finally takes off her clothes. This girl in the video, she seriously has the best tits he's ever seen. He's studied them pretty closely, and he's pretty sure they're the exact right size that he could perfectly fit one in each of his hands. (And he has pretty big hands, if he does say so himself. He's heard girls like that.)

The video is just getting to the part where the dude is about to penetrate the girl when the fucking doorbell rings. He jumps, and the hand that was on his zipper jerks and gets the fucking thing stuck. "Seriously!?" he says out loud, and he pauses the video and pulls the curtain aside to see who it is, and it's fucking Sam. He'd totally just ignore him, but Sam has seen him and is waving.

He closes his browser and runs downstairs to see what Sam wants. It turns out he wants a ride home. Ryder tells him he doesn't have the car, and then Sam wants somewhere to hang out while he waits around for a lift from Finn. Ryder should totally tell him to go wait out on the curb, but he's too nice a guy to do that. Besides, Sam has some serious puppy dog eyes that you'd think would only work on girls, but they actually work on anyone. Or maybe it's just the nice-guy thing again. He holds the door open and lets him in.

Sam walks inside and slips his shoes off but doesn't put down his backpack. Ryder holds out his hand and asks, "You want me to hang that up for you?"

Sam clutches it to his chest and says, "No thanks."

The way he's holding it is really weird. "You don't have another cat in there, do you?" Ryder asks.

"No," Sam says, but he sort of strokes the bag as he says it.

"Can I see?"

"Uh...no."

Ryder shrugs and nods. He makes a move a toward the couch, but as soon as Sam relaxes he lunges for the backpack. Sam doesn't let go, but Ryder had a good enough grasp for a second there that he's sure it's not a cat. Since he doesn't have to worry about hurting a living animal and since he's really curious now and not just a little annoyed to have had his video interrupted, he makes it his mission to get the damn backpack from Sam and see what he's protecting so carefully. He jumps on Sam's back and they both fall to the floor. They wrestle for it a bit and while Sam's acting all bewildered and asking, "Dude, what are you doing?" Ryder gets it from him after not too much of a struggle.

He unzips it and pulls out...a Cheerios uniform? "What the hell, Sam?"

"I told you not to look," Sam says testily as he snatches it back.

"But what...why...? Are you a transvestite or something?"

"You're the one who said we should all wear dresses to make Unique feel more comfortable," Sam reminds him.

"But Unique's not here...and yet you're carrying it around. Oh my god, you really liked it? Do you feel all sexy when you wear it? I mean, it's cool, you know, whatever. I'm just surprised."

"As a matter of fact I am all sexy when I wear it. I guarantee if I put it on you wouldn't be able to keep your hands off me."

Ryder scoffs. "Okay, look. I know you're a good-looking guy. Fine. But not everybody wants to do you. Straight guys would be one group that doesn't."

"You'd be surprised," Sam says.

"Yeah? What straight guys have you seduced lately?"

Sam's about to tell him what just happened with Puck, but he stops himself. It's not to protect Puck's privacy—though that might be a good reason if he'd actually thought of it in time—but because he's not actually sure anymore that Puck really is straight. If Jordan was right...

"More of a mostly straight guy," he says carefully. Yeah, he still thinks Puck is probably mostly straight.

"Oh, uh...Wow." Ryder takes a step back, then wonders if that was unintentionally offensive. But he doesn't want to take a step forward now to make up for it, because that might send the wrong signal in a different way. "I mean, not that I'm judging or anything. It's just really not my thing. No offense."

It seems like everyone is telling Sam no offense lately. He wonders briefly if he should be offended by that but decides to let it go. "So you're saying you have no interest in other guys. None?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"I wonder if it really would work on you then," he says, more to himself than to Ryder. The only guys he's seen it work on are Blaine and Puck. And himself, of course, but then he had wondered about messing around with Blaine even before. Kitty said it worked on her with Brittany, but everyone knows that all hot girls are at least a little bit bi.

"Again...that's what I'm saying."

"No, but see...you're not into me, normally, I get that. But you don't understand this uniform. It's not just that I look hot in it, it's like...Sue Sylvester did something to it, and anyone who sees me in it goes crazy with lust for me."

"Uh-huh."

Okay, Sam knows that what he's saying sounds crazy, but the totally out-of-hand dismissal of what he's trying to say is kind of annoying. "Whatever, dude, don't believe me if you don't want. I'd just show you but now I'm not a hundred percent sure it would work on you anyway. Like I said, I've only tried it with one mostly straight guy."

"Look. I don't know what your definition of mostly straight is. It could be fifty-one percent, which also leaves a pretty high percentage of gay. Even if this guy—and I'm not even going to ask who it is—is ninety percent straight and you're the one guy in ten who he finds hot..." Wait, does that math even make sense?

"But it's not me. I know you don't believe me, but you could at least listen. It's the uniform."

"Fine, whatever. I'm just saying it won't work on me."

Ryder looks so sure. Maybe there really are some guys who are so not-gay that the uniform doesn't affect them when a guy's wearing it. Maybe there needs to be some attraction to the person under normal circumstances.

Shit! Does this mean maybe he's actually attracted to Principal Sylvester? Now he really needs to know, because if he is...Well, he really hopes he's not.

"Can I try it on you then?" he asks.

"No. I am not trying on a cheerleading skirt."

"No, not you try on the skirt. Can I put it on and you look at me and see what happens?"

"Yes, actually, I think you'd better do that so we can clear this whole thing up."

"And you understand that if it does work we'll have to have sex?"

"We don't have to do anything."

"Uh..." Sam actually has no idea what would happen if they didn't—assuming the uniform works with Ryder the way it did with Kitty and Puck and not the way it didn't with Jordan. He might not have literally died, but he's pretty sure he would have felt like he was going to. He doesn't want to take that chance if Ryder is totally unwilling. "But you would have to agree to. I mean, if you don't want to, fine, I won't test it. But if I'm gonna test it, you have to agree that if it does work—"

"What do you mean by work?"

"Oh, you'll know. You'll have an irresistible urge to do me. And, uh, I'll have the same urge, but for you."

"I've never had an urge I couldn't resist," Ryder says. Then, softly, he adds, "Shit, did I just admit I'm a virgin?"

"Hey, it's nothing to be embarrassed about," Sam says, punching him on the arm. "I was, too, at your age." Man, that seems so long ago. "And anyway, if it works we don't have to, like, go all the way." He thinks of Kitty. And Unique. And then of his still-sore ass and adds, "I wouldn't be willing to do that either."

"So, like, I just have to give you a handjob if you're right?" Wait, on what planet could Sam possibly be right? Ryder is so glad no one else is around to hear him engage in this conversation.

"Yeah, if that's all you wanna do. I'll probably wanna at least blow you, if that's cool."

"Uh...we're still talking about only if seeing you in drag drives me crazy with lust, right?"

"Yeah, totally. Not in just any drag, in the phlebotinum-treated Cheerios uniform."

"Okay, man, whatever."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna put it on then."

"Okay."

"So, uh, I'll be in the bathroom..."

"Dude, you just said you're probably gonna blow me, but you need a bathroom to change in?"

"Well, I wanna take a quick shower first." Sam's thinking of where his dick has been, and Ryder's gonna have to at least touch it. Probably.

Ryder laughs. "Wow, you actually think...Whatever. Upstairs on your left," he says, even though Sam has been here before and knows where the bathroom is.

Sam takes his time in the shower. He doesn't feel any desire to jerk off—which he usually does in the shower—even as he's lathering and thoroughly cleaning his junk. Maybe all this phlebotinum-fueled sex makes you lose interest in the regular kind. Maybe that's why Brittany never wore the uniform with him.

But even if that's true, given that he hasn't had any of the regular kind since Britt dumped him, it's a side effect he's totally willing to live with.

He dries off and puts the uniform back on. He opens the bathroom door a crack and calls out, "Ryder? I'm ready!"

"So? Come on down!" Ryder yells back up the stairs.

"Shouldn't we do this in your room? Just in case?"

Sam could swear he hears Ryder sigh in exasperation. Then he hears footsteps coming up the stairs, and then the bathroom door is swung wide open.

Ryder takes a good look at Sam. He looks ridiculous in that Cheerios uniform. Ryder knows this.

And he refuses to believe that his sudden hard-on has anything to do with a guy in a skirt. Even if the skirt does show off what he now realizes is a totally gorgeous ass. Because really, all the Cheerios' asses look good in those uniforms. That's what they're designed to do.

So what if Ryder really, really wants to touch it? It's just, like, Pavlovian or something. He always feels like touching Brittany's and Kitty's when they wear those things. But he doesn't, and he'll be damned if he's going to grab Sam's ass. Much less his dick, which he has no interest in whatso-...

Good lord, look at it, though.

Not that he wants to look or anything, but it's...now that he's seen it he can't look away because it's just so...so on display there bulging out from under the red spandex, and it's so...so big and hard and it looks like how Ryder feels for some reason, and it's so tempting to just reach over and...

"Well?" Sam asks. He thinks he knows the answer, but he's not going to make a move without knowing for sure. Not if he can help it anyway.

Ryder forces his eyes to look away from Sam's crotch when he hears the question. "Uh..." he says, but he can't think about anything else, or look at anything else, and a second later he's right back to staring.

"Dude, please tell me it's working on you, because it's sure as hell working on me."

Ryder's brain barely registers that Sam is speaking again; he has no idea what words he actually uttered. He's just trying to restrain his hand from reaching over and...

Fuck it. Maybe if he asks nicely Sam won't mind.

"Sam?" he says as calmly as he can manage.

"Fuck, Ryder, what?"

"This is going to sound very weird, and I don't want to freak you out, but would you mind if I touch your dick?" He looks at Sam desperately. "Just once? Just for a second? I know it sounds weird, but—"

"Oh, thank god, man, I was starting to think it was just me."

Ryder doesn't understand what Sam is talking about. He was expecting something along the lines of What's wrong with you, perv? and at least it's not that...he's pretty sure. He's not sure Sam understood his question though. "I'm sorry, I just really want to—" He can't finish repeating his request because Sam's mouth is on his. He's never kissed a dude before, but it feels totally right. Or...not totally, because it's not what he really wants, which is to touch Sam's dick.

But he still can't repeat the request, because not only is Sam's tongue in his mouth but Sam's hands are on his shoulders and he's being pushed backwards and all he can do is kiss and back up until he finds himself in his bedroom and hears Sam slam the door shut behind them. He tries one more time: "Sam. Please. I just want to—"

Sam kisses him again. He totally doesn't get why Ryder keeps asking—as if he thought there were any chance Sam would say no! He takes Ryder's hand and shoves it unceremoniously under his spanks.

They both moan loudly with relief.

Ryder doesn't understand why this is happening, why he's touching a guy's cock and most of all why he likes it so much. He should probably stop and consider it, but he doesn't even care, he just knows he wants more. He wants it in his mouth. No. No, wait.

He wants it in his ass.

"Sam. Will you..." He unbuttons and unzips his jeans. "Please. You gotta..."

"Yeah, of course."

Sam helps tug his jeans down while kissing his neck. But he's too slow, and Ryder peels them off himself. He positions himself on his hands and knees on the bed and looks over his shoulder. "Come on, man. Stick it in me."

"Oh Jesus." Ryder's ass. Just up there in the air for him. It's all Sam can do not to take Ryder up on his offer. But there's no way he can understand what he's asking—especially if he's still a virgin. "Ryder, put that thing down before I—"

"Come on, Sam!" Ryder whines. "You said you would!"

"I thought you wanted me to blow you."

Oh! Yeah, it's his second choice—and a distant second at that—but rather than argue Ryder decides to take Sam's cock in his mouth. He rolls off the bed onto the floor and kneels in front of the guy. He pulls the spanks down just to Sam's knees, sticks his head up under the skirt, and starts licking greedily. Sam's cock seriously tastes better than anything ever, and why has he never asked to taste it before?

And, oh god, Ryder's tongue feels good. Fuck, it's not even really a blowjob exactly because nothing's in his mouth, but his tongue is all over the place and it's really, really good. "Oh god, Ryder. Oh god, oh god."

It shocks Ryder to realize that Sam isn't just letting him lick his cock, that he's enjoying it too. A lot, it sounds like. And maybe if he keeps it up he can make Sam come. If his dick tastes this good, his come probably tastes amazing.

He considers his technique for the first time, and he wishes he had actually watched the damn fellatio scene in that video so he'd know how it's supposed to be done! Well, he does know enough to realize he's supposed to suck, not just lick. And so he grabs the base in his hand, points the head toward his mouth, and wraps his lips around it. Jesus, it tastes good, he thinks once again. And he starts to suck on it like it was a giant straw—one that had something stuck in it and if he could only suck out the blockage he'd get a delicious milkshake gushing into his mouth.

"Holy fuck, Ryder!" Holy fuck that guy can suck. He's either completely clueless or he really wants Sam's load. Sam's gotta hope it's the latter, because there's no way he can stop it or even get the words out to warn him—as he feels his balls tighten all he can say is, "Holy fuck, holy fuck..."

And there it is, filling his mouth, exactly what Ryder was hoping for. It's creamy, but otherwise nothing like a milkshake: it's warm and tangy and salty and in every other way just so much better. He holds in his mouth for a few seconds, savoring it before letting it slide down the back of his throat. There was enough to make his cheeks puff out, but he's not nearly satisfied, and he starts sucking again, hoping to draw out more.

Sam has to push his head away. "Stop, Ryder. That's too much. Let me take care of you now."

Ryder looks up at him, totally bewildered. "Huh?"

"Don't you want to come too?"

Oh god! Of course! That's what he needs—how could he not realize? "Blow me, Sam! God, please!"

"I'll take care of you, dude. Just relax." Just relax. Sam's knows that's easier said than done, given the state Ryder's in. But the advice is really more for himself because the thing is, he's not in that state anymore. And now he has to blow a guy.

He can totally do it. Hell, he's done it before. It just feels a little weird at the moment.

Ryder's stroking his own dick, and from the desperate look on his face Sam can tell he's just realizing how unhelpful that is. Sam knows he's the one who got his friend into this mess, and now he has to get him out.

He eases Ryder onto the edge of the bed and kneels between his legs. Ryder's cock is so red and so hard—it's throbbing visibly and it looks like it could burst at any second. So at least this probably won't take long.

Sam starts out with a long, strong lick, starting at Ryder's balls. It's not bad! And if the full-body shudder at that one initial action is any indication, Ryder thinks so too. It's kind of awesome being able to do that to someone, even if he knows it's mostly the phlebotinum. He totally wants to do it again.

He swirls his tongue around the head and Ryder grabs the back of his head and holds it to his crotch, whining piteously. This is actually pretty hot, and Sam considers teasing him a little, drawing it out and really enjoying it. But he can tell Ryder is desperate for relief, and so he decides to just suck it out of him like Ryder did for him.

Ryder has never had anyone so much as touch his junk before, not even over the clothes, and what Sam is doing to him is beyond awesome. His tongue is seriously the most amazing thing ever. Now if only he'll...

Oh Jesus! Oh sweet Jesus, he's got it in his mouth now and he's sucking on it and Ryder is going to die, he's literally going to die from pleasure overload, it's too much, it's too...He wails as his body spasms and his balls empty into Sam's mouth. Everything goes white, and the next thing he knows he's splayed out on his back feeling more relaxed than he's ever felt.

When the power of speech returns to him, all he can think to say is, "Dude."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. He swallows hard and considers the lingering spunk flavor in his mouth. Does he like it? Not as much as he liked Blaine's when he was still under the power of the uniform. But he doesn't hate it.

And then suddenly Ryder realizes what just happened, and he sits bolt upright. "Dude!"

"Um..." Sam stands up, not sure where Ryder's going with that thought, and also realizing that he should probably go change back into his regular clothes.

"Dude, what the fuck just happened?"

"I told you. It's the uniform. Apparently it does work on totally straight guys."

"Bullshit!" Ryder says. "One, there was nothing straight about that, and, two, how can you say it was the uniform when I don't even find you attractive in it? No offense."

"So...are you gonna have a gay freakout, or..."

"I'm not homophobic! You know I'm not homophobic, right? I just don't understand..."

"Okay," Sam says soothingly. "Let me just change my clothes and I'll walk you through it again."

Ryder doesn't stop him from retreating to the bathroom, and he's in the same position on the bed when he returns in his own clothes. Sam tells him about the uniform again, telling him everything he knows, almost everything that's happened. He leaves out the names of the other people involved, though he's pretty sure Ryder can guess, because how many people fit the description of "my best friend, who happens to be gay" or "the former cheerleading coach, who's now the principal"? And he leaves out the part about how he liked giving a blowjob even after the effects had worn off because...well, it doesn't seem like the kind of detail likely to stave off a gay freakout. Just in case Ryder might have one despite not being homophobic.

When Sam finishes his explanation, Ryder is silent. Sam's afraid he somehow still doesn't believe him, in which case he has no idea how to convince the guy. But when Ryder does speak, it's to say, "Dude, you gotta tell the rest of New Directions!"


	7. Bree & Jordan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheerios Bree and Jordan are sent by Sue to get the uniform back!

"Aaah!"

Sam looks around darkened room. Thank god, it was just a dream. He heard voices, he thought, and the name Jordan, and he thought Puck's little sister was there to make him...

But then he hears something again, and he knows he's awake this time, and there's definitely someone here, in the closet maybe. At least it can't really be...

There's a loud clatter of hangers, and then a voice he almost recognizes, but doesn't quite, saying, "Goddamn it, Jordan, you are getting such a spanking later."

It's definitely a female voice, not Puck's mom's, and everything about it is so weird that he's almost sure he really is still dreaming after all, but just in case, he wraps himself tightly in the blankets.

Then the voice he can't quite place says, "Well, I'm sure he's awake now," and the closet door swings open and the light goes on.

Sam buries his head, but then he can't stand not knowing what's going on, so he peers out, careful to expose no more than one eye. "Oh thank god," he says when he sees who it is—even though it's that super scary Cheerio who even Kitty is afraid of, but he's just so relieved that the person with her isn't Puck's sister, it's just another Cheerio, the one with the neck brace. He's so relieved that he almost throws the blankets off himself, but he remembers in time that that's probably still something to avoid if possible.

Scary Cheerio examines his bundled-up form and tells neck brace Cheerio, "He must be wearing it. Apparently he's not as dumb as he looks. Or his SAT scores indicate."

Damn right Sam is wearing the uniform!

He knew Sue would try to get it back, possibly while he was sleeping. He was actually afraid she might come for it herself, so the appearance of two hot cheerleaders is just one more thing to be relieved about. Happy, even. Though he reminds himself to be on guard: with two of them, it'll be that much harder to keep the thing on his person if they try to overpower him.

He wasn't sure if wrapping up in the blanket would block the uniform's effects, but it seems to be working. He's a little turned on, but that's because there are two hot cheerleaders in his bedroom. He's not, like, phlebotinum-level turned on. So if he can get them to leave without revealing himself in the uniform, everything will be totally manageable. And if he can't and he ends up having to fuck the two hot cheerleaders? He can probably live with that.

Attempting to sit up but only managing to prop his head up slightly against the headboard, he decides to try the easy way. "I'm afraid I have to ask you ladies to leave."

"Is that so?" the scary one asks. She sits next to him on the bed but doesn't touch him. Neck brace girl copies her action, but on the other side of Sam. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, we're waiting for you to ask us to leave."

"Oh. Right. Would you please leave?"

"No."

"No?"

"Is there an echo in here, Jordan?" the scary one asks. Jordan smiles but doesn't answer or look away from Sam.

"Why won't you leave?" Sam asks. He's stalling, trying to think of some way out of this situation. He can't get up and make a run for it. He can't yell out for help because his bedroom door is locked (If only he'd thought to check the closet first!)—and the door is locked because the absolute last thing he wants is for Carole or Burt to see him in the uniform. Can he maybe overpower the girls and blindfold them, while keeping the uniform completely covered?

"You know why," the scary one says, interrupting his thoughts.

"Look. You're girls, and I don't want to hurt you. But I'm not going to let you have it either, and I will defend myself..." He looks at Jordan, specifically at her neck brace. "...though I'd feel a lot better if you'd maybe stay out of this altogether," he tells her. "I'd hate for you to reinjure your neck."

Jordan blushes and looks down. The other girl laughs and says, "She didn't injure her neck."

"Oh. Then the brace is for what? Like, fashion?"

Scary cheerleader gets up, walks around to neck brace cheerleader's side of the bed, and puts her hands on her shoulders. "The brace is to show she belongs to me. It's like a collar."

"Like a...like a dog collar?"

Sam looks at Jordan, waiting for her to clarify or maybe object, maybe slap him across the face. But she just keeps looking at the floor. Scary cheerleader smirks and says, "Something like that. You might say she's my bitch."

Jordan's blushing even harder now. Sam tries to catch her eye, but except for a quick glance at scary Cheerio she won't look anywhere but the floor. "Seriously?" he asks her. "Is it some kind of cheerleader hazing thing?"

"She doesn't speak without permission," the scary one says, "and it's not a hazing thing." She removes the neck brace, revealing several small bruises—hickeys, Sam guesses. Then she tells her, "Up!" and Jordan stands immediately. She pushes her back against the wall, but not using any force—in fact, only barely touching her chest with a single finger. She slides a hand up under Jordan's top and gropes her tit—kind of hard, from what Sam can tell—and starts going all sex-crazed vampire on her neck. Jordan whimpers lightly and writhes under her; she makes eye contact with Sam for a few seconds, which is weird and uncomfortable as hell.

So he's really annoyed with his dick for getting hard at this bizarre display. Unless...maybe the phlebotinum works a little even if the uniform is covered up and no one can see it?

Anyway, Jordan's eyes are closed now, so this is his chance. He scoots to the edge of the bed and swings his legs onto the floor. But he's stopped by a high-pitched squeal. Jordan has opened her eyes again and his ratting him out to her...her mistress? Sam has no idea how their thing works, and he'd be really intrigued if they weren't both closing in on him and he had time to wonder.

"Going somewhere?" the scary one asks.

"I really do have to ask you to leave," he tries again.

"Fine. Give us what we want and we'll be on our way."

"No way. It's not safe in Principal Sylvester's hands." Sam's not sure what he means by that, since it apparently only works for a limited number of people, presumably not Sue herself. Nonetheless it's the best thing that's ever happened to him, and there's no way he's giving it up.

Plus...he needs it for the glee club...nationals...etc. It's not like he's selfish.

"At least take the blanket off. You know you wanna fuck us."

Well...yeah. Duh. If that were all they wanted Sam would gladly give it to them. He doesn't even think he can pull off lying about wanting to fuck them, and while he's trying to think of some way to answer believably, the scary Cheerio nods at the other one and they rip the blankets off him, and the whole question becomes sort of moot.

The three of them all freeze for a second, the girls taking in the sight of Sam in the uniform and vice versa.

Jordan is the first to move: she pushes Sam onto his back and gives the other girl a pleading look. Other girl nods at her, and Jordan climbs on top of Sam, straddling his waist. She doesn't do anything, though, just sits there while scary cheerleader walks around behind her and pulls her top off. She slowly unhooks a lacy red bra and lets it fall off. "My girl has nice tits, right?" she asks Sam.

Sam nods eagerly. They're really nice.

"You wanna touch 'em?"

Sam nods again. He reaches for them but stops to look in Jordan's eyes to make sure it's okay. Jordan is looking at the other girl, though, so Sam does too. Scary girl says, "You can. She likes when you squeeze her nipples hard." She demonstrates, and Jordan moans and squirms. "Quiet, baby. You want me to let you come later, don't you?" Jordan covers her mouth with her hand and nods vigorously.

Sam cups her breasts softly. He's not going to squeeze, and certainly not hard, because he doesn't want to get her in "trouble" or whatever. But, well, this look she gives him...like she really wants him to squeeze. And it's not like he's not dying to—her tits are amazing, and they're the only part of her, the only part of either of them, that he can actually touch yet. So he gives in, he squeezes...not hard, but hardish...and Jordan bites her lip and drops her head back. And she grinds, long and hard, against Sam's cock, which is the worst/best thing because they're both still in their spanks.

Scary cheerleader slowly traces the letters on his uniform top with her finger. He doesn't know how she has so much self-control—he and Jordan are dry humping furiously and both about ready to burst by the time she starts on the H. Sam's trying not to be the first one to speak, but he cracks and mutters, "Please." She smirks a little but doesn't respond, just keeps slowly tracing the letters.

She finally—finally—finishes the S and lets her finger trail down to the waistband of his spanks. She snaps the band hard and Sam cries out. "Want me to take these off for you?" she asks.

Yes! Yes, of course he does! But there's got to be a way...he's been racking his brain and he hasn't come up with one yet, but there has got to be a way that he can get them off himself in a way that doesn't leave them vulnerable to being snatched by scary girl or Jordan.

So he bluffs. He knows she must be bluffing—unless she's actually, like, Puck's sister's age, which he doesn't believe for a second, there's no way she's not going crazy too, no matter how well she hides it—so he can do it too, he tells himself. "Nah," he says, his voice shaking. "I'm good." If he could just stop grinding against Jordan, he thinks, she might even believe him.

She obviously doesn't, though, as she just smirks and says, "Suit yourself."

But a few seconds later, something else flashes across her face. Frustration, Sam thinks. Need. She has been bluffing too. She seems to consider something and then announces, "Well, while you're being all good with dry humping my girl and never coming, you're going to eat me out." She steps out of her spanks and skirt and straddles Sam's face, holding onto Jordan's shoulders for balance.

It's totally not fair that scary Cheerio should get to come when he can't—not to mention that strategically it's terrible for him. Sam knows this, in the back of his head, but...but her pussy is right there, right over his face, and he can feel the heat of it on his skin, and he can smell her juices—and see them, like they might just drip down onto his face—but he can't wait for them to maybe drip, he needs to touch, he needs to taste, he needs to do something even if he knows it won't really help.

But...maybe he can do something without doing that.

Her ass.

Scary Cheerio has a super nice ass—almost as nice as her pussy and, more importantly, he's pretty sure girls can't come just from having stuff done to their asses. He takes a cheek in each hand and squeezes hard. Hard, not hardish like with Jordan's tits. She gasps once—then a second time, harder, when he smacks one of them. He wonders if he's gone too far, but she goes, "Again!" so he smacks her ass again, harder, and it makes a cracking sound that he wants so bad to come to. He places his lips on her cheek, right where he smacked, and the skin there is so hot. Almost as hot as her cunt, he thinks, before he remembers he has to ignore that particular part of her.

He can't see what she's doing, and he really wants to—especially when she rocks against him and moans, "Fuck, Jordan. Good girl." And the way she's rocking—whether it's because it's her plan or it's just because of whatever Jordan's doing—keeps positioning her slit right in front of his mouth. He tries to touch only her ass, her thighs, anywhere that can't possibly make her come, but, well, she's pretty flexible, and she's moving around a lot for someone in a position as awkward as her current one, and it's just inevitable that his tongue eventually slides in accidentally between her folds, and holy fucking shit she tastes good in there. Inside her cunt is exactly where he needs to be—he needs his cock to be in there, and it can't, not yet, but he'll settle for whatever part of himself he can get in.

Bucking up desperately against Jordan—even though it doesn't help in the least—Sam tries to use whatever limited powers of concentration and self-control he has to avoid scary Cheerio's clitoris. If touching a girl's clit is the only way to make her come—and he's heard conflicting reports on this—then if he can just avoid it he still has a chance. He forces himself to lick slowly and lightly, anywhere and everywhere except her clitoris. It's so hard not to just give her a fast and sloppy tongue-lashing everywhere, not to just thrust his tongue hard inside her and fuck her with it...but his plan actually seems to be working.

She's trying to move her hips, but he has a firm hold on them. Under his fingers he can feel her body start to tremble. Finally she says, "Fuck. Come on."

"You want me to make you come?"

She lets out an exasperated huff in reply.

"Then let me fuck you. Tell your...your pet..." He can't bring himself to call the other girl her bitch. "...to get off me, let me take the spanks off and hold onto them myself, and—"

"Fuck you. Jordan?"

She must have given a signal to Jordan or something—Sam can't see—and before he knows it Jordan has grabbed his hands away from scary girl, and scary girl has shifted forward so she's on her hands and knees and she's humping Sam's face hard. He could probably overpower her, but it doesn't even occur to him to try—he doesn't even really want her to stop anymore. He extends his tongue and lets it fill her tight hole, he savors her juices as she bucks her hips and rubs her clitoris against his mouth. He pulls his hands free from Jordan's and uses them not to try to stop the girl on top of him, but to grip her ass and urge her back and forth, back and forth, until she squeezes his head tight between her knees and cries out. She clenches around his tongue and grinds faster and harder than ever while biting the fabric of his Cheerios top to muffle her screams.

Sam can't breathe that well, so as soon as the girl goes limp and still he pushes her off his face and down onto his chest. He can see Jordan again—she's still grinding on him, and now she's squeezing her own nipples too. Her lips are white from how hard she's biting them, and from her expression Sam can tell she's as desperate to come as he is. Maybe...while the other girl is recovering from her orgasm and not paying attention...He catches Jordan's eye and tries to pantomime to her, though he's not sure what his plan is exactly.

And anyway it doesn't matter, because as soon as Jordan sees him trying to signal to her she taps on the other girl's shoulder and, when she looks up, glances at him meaningfully, effectively ratting him out. Scary girl shakes her head and chuckles. She slaps Jordan on the ass and orders, "Off him, baby." Jordan whimpers but complies, rolling off to the side.

Scary Cheerio slides down a little and starts teasing at Sam's cock—over the spanks. He tries not to buck up and rub against her hand, but it's useless, he has no control. Then she starts mouthing at it, basically giving him head through the the spanks, and it's just so...he can't even...

His whole body is completely tense and on edge. He doesn't even realize he's squeezing her ass again—hard—until he hears her says, "Jordan, grab his hands." She does, and he squeezes them just as hard. He really doesn't want to hurt either of them, and especially not Jordan, but he literally can't help it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take these off for you?" the scary one asks, toying at the elastic band on his inner thigh.

Jordan looks at him pleadingly. Her face is all red and sweaty and she looks as desperate as he feels. "At least let Jordan come," Sam says.

"LOL, you're funny. You should have figured out by now that she doesn't get to come either until I take these off you and let you fuck her." She sits up and faces him, straddling his dick in the same position Jordan was in earlier. "Does that make it easier for you? If you can pretend you're giving them to me for Jordan and not for yourself?"

Yeah, it does make it a little easier actually. Or...or, actually, it doesn't even matter why, it just matters that he can't stand it for a second longer. "Take them," he says. "Take them, burn them, whatever. Just...please."

Scary girl climbs off him and he raises his ass to make it easier for her to pull them off. She doesn't, though—she says, "Jordan?" and Jordan extricates her hands from Sam's and scrambles over to pull the spanks and skirt off. She throws them across the room, toward the door, and stares at Sam's cock hungrily. Like, he thinks her mouth is literally watering. She makes a move to touch it, but before she can, her mistress or whatever smacks her butt and tells her, "Down, girl." Jordan whines, earning herself another smack, and looks at the other girl piteously, before she obediently backs away from Sam and kneels on the corner of the bed.

Sam half-sits and tries to reach out to her, but the scary cheerleader goes, "Jordan! Hold him!" and before he knows it Jordan is on top of his chest, tits right in his face—but no part of her touching his dick, where he really needs it—holding his hands against the mattress. And so he does the only thing he can: he sucks a breast into his mouth and he humps up blindly, hoping that some skin somewhere will rub against his cock.

It doesn't. He'll just have to wait it out, he realizes. Now that he doesn't have the full uniform on, his need should become less desperate soon. More like just normal horniness. The kind he can take care of on his own—if he ever gets rid of these girls, or at least gets his hands free.

Except...the desperation doesn't subside. Not even a little. It doesn't help that now, in addition to the girl with her tits in his face, he's got another girl sucking hickeys into the insides of his thighs while just barely avoiding touching his cock and balls. That would be enough by itself, but still, it's more than that. He realizes he was wrong in thinking the uniform only affected him if he had the whole thing on. As long as he's still wearing any part of it he's screwed...or in his present situation, not screwed, which is much worse.

He wrests his hands free and manages to push Jordan off him. "What do you want?" he asks the girl whose head is so close to—and yet so fucking far from—his crotch. "You want the top too? The whole uniform? Fucking take it and get out."

"That would be lovely," the girl says, smirking again. "Even though you didn't offer very graciously."

Sam pulls the top off and tosses it to her. He wants to toss it at her, but he's scared of what she might do if he pisses her off too much. She folds it slowly and puts it, along with the rest of the uniform, into a backpack. He's actually relieved...he no longer thinks the uniform is the greatest thing ever, and he hopes to never to see it again.

He lies back and takes his dick in hand, not caring whether the girls are going to watch him or leave or...or paddle each other or what. He jerks himself hard and fast and...and..."Fuck. Oh fuck." It's not helping at all. He still needs them, even after taking off the entire uniform. "Wait!" he yells, opening his eyes to see if they're still there. Thank god, they are. "Don't go. Please."

"Why not?" scary cheerleader asks, all fake-innocent.

"I need..."

"I know what you need. And don't worry, I'm not that cruel. Well, to you I would be, but not to my baby. She's been so good." Jordan tries to smile, but...well, she's in as bad a place as Sam is. Scary girl gets back on the bed, straddling Sam but hovering above him, not actually on his crotch yet. But there's something this time, something very slight that he can actually feel on his cock—maybe it's just a stray pubic hair or something, but it feels so good he thinks it might actually be enough.

Miraculously, though, he doesn't have to settle for a stray hair. She actually, finally, really lowers herself down, letting her cunt swallow up his cock. The suddenness of it—after all this waiting—almost knocks him out. Hoping like hell she isn't just teasing still, Sam grabs her hips and holds them tight as he thrusts up into her. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it's so good. He almost doesn't hear her say, "Call my name when you come."

"What...?"

"It's Bree."

"Oh, oh, oh...Bree!" He arches up, lifting her clear off the bed as his come starts to fill her pussy. He flips them, needing to be on top so he can thrust into her harder. "Bree!" he chants with each powerful, deep thrust. "Bree! Oh fuck, oh fuck, Breeee!"

He keeps coming for a long time—like as long as Brittany used to sometimes. He had no idea it was even possible for guys to keep coming that long, and it's mind-blowingly good.

Except that then he can't stop pumping into her—he can't even stop chanting her name—even when he's not really coming anymore. It's just...he's still so hard! And he still doesn't feel satisfied at all, even after coming and coming and coming.

Bree pats his ass. "Sammy?"

"Bree!"

"It's time to stop fucking me now."

"No!" he cries, fucking into her harder and faster.

"If you don't get off me, how are you going to fuck Jordan?"

Jordan! Fuck, how could he forget about Jordan? He looks around and there she is, nearly in tears, hand moving furiously inside her spanks even though—as Sam knows all too well—her own hand can't help. He reaches for her, only to have Bree slap his hand. "Hold on there, cowboy. You're going to fuck her, but you're going to wait until I tell you you can."

"No!" Sam says. "We've had enough of your bullshit. She needs it even worse than I do, and if you think we're going to..." But Jordan is shaking her head at him, pleading with him with her eyes—she even clasps her hands together and everything. "Fine," he sighs, making a mental note to get Jordan alone at school as soon as possible to find out if she's actually scared Bree will hurt her or just what's going on. "We'll do it your way."

"Of course we will. Get up."

Sam stands up and holds Jordan's hand. She squeezes it back as they both watch Bree rearrange herself on the bed so she's propped up against the headboard with her legs spread wide.

"So here's what's going to happen. Jordan, baby, I want your face in my pussy, ass in the air, legs open wide. Sammy, when I tell you—and not before—you are going to get on your knees behind my girl and fuck her doggy-style. She loves being taken like a bitch. Don't you, baby?"

Jordan nods.

"You can talk, baby. You've been such a good girl, you can talk for the rest of the night."

"Thank you," Jordan says softly. Her voice is all husky and sultry—it totally makes Sam want to fuck her throat. Not that he wouldn't want that anyway.

"You're welcome, baby." Bree gives her a look that's almost—almost—kind of sweet. It's gone a second later, though, as she tells her, "Now lose the rest of your clothes and bury your face in my twat and eat Sammy's spunk out of me."

"Yes, mistress," Jordan says as she hurries to follow Bree's orders.

Sam tries not to watch. He knows there's no part of seeing a hot cheerleader, ass in the air and legs open wide, eating his spunk out of the pussy of another hot cheerleader, that's going to make waiting any more bearable. But on the other hand...how can he resist watching? Especially when they're both so loudly enjoying their activity?

Jordan—although she has permission now—can't exactly speak with her mouth occupied as it is, but she is moaning super loud and enthusiastically. Bree, meanwhile, is keeping up a running commentary—"God, so good, Jordan, yeah, right there, baby, fuck..."—while tangling one hand into Jordan's hair and using the other to play with her own nipples.

And then apparently Jordan does something Bree really likes—Sam has no idea what because he's too busy staring at Jordan's cunt, which is red and glistening and visibly throbbing—and Bree cries out really fucking loudly. Loudly enough that Sam actually thinks of Burt and Carole and how it would be very bad for them to hear them, and he says, "Please! Try to keep it—"

"Fuck her now," Bree cuts him off.

Immediately forgetting all thoughts of the Hudmels, Sam positions himself on his knees behind Jordan. He pushes his cock inside her warm, wet, welcoming walls, hearing her wail into the pussy of the writhing, screaming girl in front of her. He gets no more than two or three thrusts in before he feels those walls seize up and squeeze his cock, and maybe one more after that before his own release—which he's been needing so bad—finally begins. That cunt is gripping him so tight that it's actually kind of difficult to keep moving, but he wouldn't—he couldn't—stop pumping into her for the world. He just lets his body fulfill its needs, adding his own moans and cries to those of the girls. With one last, shuddering thrust he finally finds relief, as he unloads one last spurt of come deep inside her.

"Don't stop, Sam, please!" Jordan begs him as she keeps moving back and forth on his cock. And he tries to keep going for her, but he's completely exhausted, not to mention softening.

He's barely aware of Bree pushing him out of the way. Normally he'd be very interested in see what Bree is doing that has Jordan continuing to writhe and scream, but right now all he can do is lie there and try to catch his breath. Eventually the girls go quiet and still and lie there with him.

Not for long though. Pretty soon Bree is standing up and putting her uniform back on. Jordan follows suit while Sam just watches them, still exhausted. Once they're dressed, Jordan says, "Thank you, mistress," and she kisses Bree's hand.

"You liked that, baby?"

Jordan nods enthusiastically.

"You wanna do it again some time?"

More enthusiastic nodding.

"How can I say no when you give me those big puppy dog eyes?" Bree takes the uniform out of her backpack and tosses it onto the bed. "You keep it," she tells Sam. "We'll be back some time."

Bree unlocks the bedroom door and the girls just walk out. Sam can't even muster the energy to worry about what will happen if Burt or Carole see them.

He looks at the uniform, vaguely remembering wanting to be rid of it. But...even though the hours (seemingly anyway) of not being able to fuck the girls was pure torture, finally getting to made it totally worthwhile. So...he puts the thing back on.

He's just collapsing back onto the bed—not even bothering to get under the sheets or anything—when there's a knock at his door. Before he can even ask whoever it is to give him a second, the door opens.

Finn comes bumbling in, going, "Sam, what's going...oh shit."


	8. Finn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn, checking on Sam after hearing a commotion in his room, walks in on him wearing the uniform.

Sam throws the blanket over himself, but it's too late. "Goddamn it, Finn. Don't you ever knock?"

"Dude, the door wasn't even shut all the way," Finn defends himself as he pulls the door shut and locks it. But his mind isn't really on the door at all, it's on Sam in that fucking Cheerios uniform. He sits next to him on the bed and yanks the blanket off. Holy mother of god, Sam looks as hot in that outfit as... "Is that Brittany's? Holy shit, it does the same thing to you that it does to her!"

"Yeah." Sam's glad he doesn't have to explain, at least, because he's way too exhausted. Then again, he's way too exhausted to be getting hard again—like, it shouldn't be physically possible—but here he is. Hard for Finn.

Finn grabs Sam by the shoulders and kisses him hard. "I need you to fuck me," he says before he can even consider his words. As soon as they're out he's vaguely aware that they're wrong, that he could have just suggested blowjobs—or handjobs even—but now that he's said what he really wants he's not about to take it back.

"But you're not ready," Sam objects. "It takes time. I mean, unless you've got a buttplug in there..." He reaches down the back of Finn's pajamas and gropes his ass.

Uh...does Sam really think Finn might just happen to have been sleeping with a buttplug up his ass? But he does have a point about it taking a while to get ready for anal. That time Puck did him he spent like at least ten solid minutes stretching and lubing his hole first. But, oh fuck, it was worth it! Still, he can't exactly wait that long right now.

But he has an idea. "Handjobs! Then we're good for, like, twenty minutes—"

"Nineteen," Sam corrects him. "Approximately." He doesn't like where this is going. Or...he does like it, but he's so tired.

"Whatever, man. That's plenty of time for you to get me ready."

"But, Finn..." Sam's aware that his voice sounds whiny as hell, and he's not exactly happy about it but he doesn't exactly care that much either. He collapses onto his back but rubs Finn's thigh as he continues, "You have no idea how many people I've already fucked today and the two girls who just left—"

"You had two girls here just now?"

"Yeah, and it was brutal and I just wanna go to sleep but now I need to come again and I'd like to fuck you but I can't, I literally don't think I can, I'm not even sure if I have the energy to give you a decent handjob, and—"

Finn kisses him again so he'll be quiet and stop freaking out. "Okay, shh, it's okay," he says before kissing him once more. "Tomorrow? Will you fuck me tomorrow?"

"Sure," Sam mutters with relief.

"And...can I fuck you now?" Before Sam can make the predictable (yet reasonable) objections, Finn hastens to add, "I'll do all the work, you just have to lay there, just...just...please, Sam, I really..." He really needs something more than a lousy handjob. A handjob, that's just like jerking off—he does that all the time and he's still perpetually horny. And now seeing Sam in the uniform makes him need so much more than to be jerked off. "I'll stretch you out first and everything, and I promise I won't hurt you, just...please."

"I don't know if I can wait though..." The waiting, that was the worst. He wouldn't be nearly as exhausted as he is if those girls had just let him fuck them. He already really needs Finn to touch his dick. In fact...he grabs Finn's hand and places it under the spanks. Oh fuck, that's better.

Finn doesn't want to wait either, but he totally knows what to do. Sam literally won't have to do anything, not even jerk him. "Lay flat on your back," he says, and Sam unthinkingly complies. He pulls Sam's spanks down, then his own pajama pants and underwear, and lies on top of him.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Sam says as soon as their cocks touch. "You're a genius, Finn. Fucking dry hump me." Wait, is this kind of humping considered dry, or is that only if you're still dressed? Fuck, what difference does it make? He needs it, exactly what Finn is doing, whatever you call it.

Finn realizes he could hump Sam a lot more effectively if his knees were on the mattress, but he can't do that with his pajamas around his thighs. He rolls off to the side for just a second to get rid of the PJs. As soon as their dicks lose contact with each other, Sam whines and goes, "No, no, don't go away! Please!"

"Relax, dude, I'm just trying to make it easier to grind against you."

"Oh, thank god." Sam can't go through a repeat of the psycho cheerleaders encounter, he just can't.

Freed from his clothing from the waist down, Finn straddles Sam, holding his upper body up with his arms. He's got much better leverage now, and when he grinds against him long and hard, Sam shudders under him with relief.

Finn feels that same relief—this is good, and it's definitely going to get them off. It's just...there's something weird about it. Aside from the obvious, that is.

It's the way Sam's not even looking at him, he decides, and they way they're not even touching, really, except for their junk. He knows this is all about the uniform and its crazy powers—it's not like he and Sam are in love or like he even remotely wants them to be in love—but he feels like they should be connected by more than just their genitals.

"Sam, man, can I kiss you?"

Sam doesn't answer, he doesn't open his eyes even, he just reaches up and pulls Finn's head down to his. Finn's tongue plunges into his mouth, which makes him imagine Finn's dick plunging into his ass. It's totally for the best that Finn has decided to just dry (?) hump him instead, but he can't help but feel a little bummed that he's not going to get fucked. Finn fucking him would be so good.

Of course, this is really good too, Finn's dick grinding against his. Exhausted as he is, he can't help but grind back. And, although they really couldn't be rubbing against each other much harder, he finds that he's clutching Finn's ass and pulling him in with something like desperation.

Sam's fingers on his ass—a couple of them definitely inside his crack!—only drive Finn even crazier. "Fuck me," he mutters into Sam's mouth. And then, as he imagines Sam doing just that, he realizes his release is imminent. He bunches the sheet up in his fists just as hot jizz gushes out between his and Sam's already friction-scorched bodies.

A few seconds later Sam follows suit, digging his fingers in painfully and crying out weakly. Finn, actually able to think sort of clearly now, kisses him to muffle the sound. Usually his mom and Burt are pretty sound sleepers, but he doesn't want to risk it.

Sam doesn't have the energy to return Finn's kiss—nor the desire, now that it's over. His body feels as limp and formless as a beanbag. He just lies there with his eyes closed, completely motionless, even when Finn pulls a t-shirt or something out of his drawer and wipes the come off his stomach. He does, however, sleepily wish Finn a good night as he hears him leave.

He tries not to fall asleep before taking the uniform off. Sleeping in it is too dangerous, he's realized. Plus the polyester skirt irritates the skin on his cock, which is a wee bit tender right now. Still, he doesn't quite have the energy yet to remove the garment, so in the meantime he just flips it up onto his stomach.

To Sam's surprise, Finn is back before he falls asleep or takes the uniform off. "What...?"

"What what? I got some lube."

"Lube?" Sam honestly doesn't know if Finn's not making any sense or if he's just not following because he's half-asleep. "But we already..."

"You said I could fuck you. Remember? I mean if you wanna do me that's cool too..." It's actually what Finn would greatly prefer, but he's not going to say that. "...but you said you were too tired and I promised I would do all the work, remember?"

"But..." Even if he did agree, which he's not totally sure of, that was before...

"C'mon, man. I'll be super careful so it won't hurt, and you don't have to do anything, and...and that uniform...I need to!" This isn't a lie, Finn tells himself. He knows he's not technically under the uniform's power at the moment, but he still feels like he needs Sam to fuck him and, failing that, like the only possible substitute he can make do with is him fucking Sam.

"Yeah, okay," Sam says. He doesn't totally understand how Finn can need it again already, because it hasn't been anywhere close to nineteen minutes and Sam isn't even remotely interested again yet, but mainly he's too tired to argue. If all he has to do is lie there and take it, then fine. He does have the presence of mind to stipulate one condition: "You gotta be really careful though. Cause I never...I mean, yesterday was the first time...and it hurt afterwards so..."

Finn wonders who fucked him yesterday. Puck, probably. Finn was sore, too, after Puck fucked him. Not that that was the main reason he freaked out about it so hard afterward, or really even a reason at all. No, he freaked out for the very simple reason that he liked it. A lot. And now he's trying very hard not to freak out about how he wants it again, from Sam.

Of course there's no reason to freak out now. It's the uniform, plain and simple. He literally can't help how bad he wants it. He's vaguely aware that there's a tiny flaw in his reasoning, but he doesn't let himself think about that now. Luckily he has other things to concentrate on, like getting Sam ready.

Finn rolls Sam onto his stomach. He squirts quite a lot of lube in his crack, and then adds a little more to his fingers, before he starts poking around back there. It feels cold and kind of weird, like...even weirder than when Blaine did it. But it doesn't feel especially bad—or especially good, for that matter—and soon the goo isn't cold anymore and he gets used to the probing, and he starts to drift off...

...until Finn shakes him urgently. "Dude, it just kicked in for me again. Did it just kick in again for you too?"

"Huh?" Sam doesn't understand the question. Just kicked in? He thought Finn was under the effects of the phlebotinum the whole time.

But when he turns to look back and Finn he feels his cock stir and grow against the mattress, and he forgets all about whatever it was that was confusing him. He shifts a little, spreads his legs wider and lifts his ass as much as he has the energy to, and says, "Yeah. Yeah, Jesus, Finn, fuck me."

And, god, Finn is beyond relieved—he was actually starting to think Sam might be asleep or something.

He really hopes Sam's stretched enough. Well, he's been working his asshole open for almost twenty minutes, so he must be, right? He's used plenty of lube. It's all over the place, making Sam's ass all shiny and glistening. So fucking welcoming. Christ. He presses the tip of his cock up against Sam's lube-slick entrance and, using every ounce of self-restraint he possesses, forces himself to ease in slowly. "Fuck," they both gasp, more or less simultaneously.

Finn can't believe how good it feels. Like, partly it's just the uniform, obviously. But he's never fucked anyone in the ass before—it's not a request he would have ever even considered making of Rachel—and now he is seriously regretting all those times he refused Puck's requests that he do so. Sam is so hot inside, and so tight, and it's all he can do not to just pound him as hard and as fast as humanly possible.

"Fuuuck," Sam moans into the pillow as Finn slowly fills him. It doesn't even hurt. Like, not at all. Unless, of course, you count the frustration of Finn taking for-fucking-ever as a kind of pain...which it actually sort of is. "Faster," he begs.

"But..."

"Yeah, in my butt. Faster."

"But you just made me promise to go slow."

"Are you high? Quit messing with me and fuck me faster. Dude!"

Is Finn high? Maybe the uniform has side effects he doesn't remember from when he fucked Brittany in it. Because he was too high to remember afterwards. That would make so much sense. After all, Sam should know if he said to go slow or not. And if he didn't...then this is going to be a lot more fun.

He pulls most of the way out and then slams back in, all the way, just one powerful thrust that doesn't stop until he's balls-deep and can't physically get any farther in. Without giving Sam a chance to catch his breath he does it again. And then again.

Sam can't hold his ass up even a little anymore. He can't do anything but tremble and scream into his pillow. It's wonderful, it's incredible, it's the best thing ever. Does it hurt? Yeah, kinda, but even the pain feels good.

Finn is making some kind of hissing noise in his ear, but he can barely hear it over his own screaming, much less begin to make any sense of it. And he honestly doesn't care that much, because each time Finn's dick slams into his prostate just brings him that much closer to...to...Oh fuck!

Oh fuck, something's between his mouth and the pillow, and he finds himself biting down on it as he mindlessly humps and unloads on the mattress. Finn cries out too as he releases his seed inside Sam's ass.

Sam goes all beanbaggy again, and he's instantly very nearly asleep, but Finn wants to talk for some reason, apparently. "Huh?" he asks groggily.

"I said you bit my hand!"

"I...why'd you put your hand in my mouth?"

"Because you were...shit!"

"Huh?"

"Quiet!" Finn whispers.

There's a knock at the door. "Sam?" It's Carole! "Is everything okay?"

Oh shit, oh shit! "Say you had a nightmare," Finn whispers.

"You had a nightmare," Sam whispers.

"No. Say, 'I had a nightmare' loud."

"I had a nightmare loud." At least he doesn't whisper it this time.

"What?" Carole asks. Then Finn hears Burt outside too, hears the two of them talking to each other. "I think he said he had a nightmare," he hears Carole say to Burt. Then louder, to Sam, she says, "Are you okay now?"

Finn whispers, "Say yes." But it's no use, Sam is totally asleep, so he disguises his voice as best he can and goes, "Uh-huh!" Carole and Burt mutter to each other some more, but soon they walk away.

"And that's why I was trying to cover your mouth, you doofus," Finn says softly, although he knows Sam doesn't hear him.

He listens at the door to make sure the coast is clear, but just before he's about to go back to his own room he has a disturbing thought. Sam is pretty out of it. What if he got up to go to the bathroom or something and didn't think to take the uniform off and ran into Burt or...or Carole, and...No. No fucking way he's going to let that happen. He strips Sam naked, covers him with a sheet and blanket, and takes the uniform back to his own room.


	9. Tina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina takes Sam to breakfast to apologize to him.

A screech tears Sam from his slumber. He sees Carole standing next to the bed. "Oh shit!" he yells, pulling the blankets over himself. Shit, shit, shit! He does not want to have to fuck Finn's mom! Like, aside from the fact that it's Finn's mom and Finn would probably kill him, he's not even attracted to her, and...

Wait.

He's not attracted to her...that's good!

He reaches under the covers and touches himself all over. He doesn't have the uniform on and his dick isn't even a little bit hard. Oh, thank god.

But wait, why did she scream then?

Oh yeah, because she walked in and saw him naked.

"Sorry," he mutters. He checks to make sure he's fully, 100 percent covered below the shoulders and adds, "You can uncover your eyes now."

She doesn't uncover them, however. She takes a step backwards and says, "No, no, my bad. I did try to knock but you didn't hear me..."

"Sorry. I had kind of a rough night."

"Yeah, we heard," she says sympathetically.

"You heard?" Shit. Oh, shit.

"Do you have nightmares like that often?"

"Nightm-...? Oh. Uh, no, I don't think so."

"I know it's probably hard, living apart from your family for so long, and maybe Burt and I don't say it that often anymore, maybe we just assume you know already, but we shouldn't make assumptions like that, and so I just want to remind you that you can always talk to us, honey, if there's anything going on, or...or, well, anything." It's kind of a weird speech to be giving with her eyes covered.

"Okay. Thanks. Um, is that what you—"

"No! No, that's not what I came in here to tell you. Tina is here to see you."

"Um." Sam racks his brain trying to think of a reason for Tina to be here at the ungodly hour of...What time is it? Barely after six, Jesus. Maybe he misheard. "Tina? Is here now? To see me?"

Carole nods, hand still over her eyes. "She said she wants to buy you breakfast. Would you like me to ask her to wait downstairs?"

"Uh, sure. I mean it might be a while, I still have to shower and everything, but if she wants to."

"I'll let her know," Carole says before she leaves him, closing the door tightly on the way out.

Sam looks around frantically for the uniform as soon as she's gone. He tears off all the blankets and sheets, looks through all the drawers in his dresser—nothing. Fuck! He throws some boxers on and goes to Finn's room.

"Wake up, dude!" he says, shaking him.

Finn looks at him groggily, but he's only groggy for like a second, even though he usually takes forever to wake up. He sits up in bed and says, "Now? I mean, I was gonna stretch myself in advance, but if you wanna help me..."

"What?"

"You came here to fuck me, right?"

"No!"

"Oh. But you said you would..."

Yeah, Sam vaguely remembers that. "You still want me to? I mean, when you said it you were looking at me in the uniform. But now..."

"Oh. Right. I just thought..."

"And I couldn't now anyway. Those girls from the Cheerios, they must have snuck back in after we...after you...It's gone! They got the fucking uniform!"

"Oh! No, I took it. I didn't want anyone to see you in it accidentally like Burt or—"

"Finn, you're a fucking genius!" Sam bends down and kisses him, he's just so grateful. He decides not to tell him about the close call with Carole.

Whoa, Sam's kissing him. "So...we are on? Okay, we have to be quiet. I think I can be, but feel free to shove a pillow in my mouth or something if you have to. The lube is right over—"

"Uh, no." Shit, Finn really does want it still. Like, pretty bad, apparently. Not that Sam's against the idea, but... "I mean, I can't right now. Tina is actually waiting for me downstairs."

"Tina? Does she know?"

"I don't think..." Actually, that might explain it. "Well, I guess maybe Blaine told her. Anyway, your mom and Burt are up, so...later?"

"Yeah. Of course." Finn shrugs. "Or not. You know, not like it's a big deal."

"Right. Well, I'm gonna go shower."

"Cool. Oh, the uniform's in my top drawer. If you wanna wear it with Tina or, you know, whoever."

"Thanks." Sam grabs it from the drawer. He's not sure he does want to use it with Tina or with anyone right away—he didn't get much sleep, plus he's still kind of wiped out from yesterday—but he doesn't want to leave it unguarded in the house all day either. Maybe he should, like, see if his bank has any of those safety deposit box thingies. But then he might not be able to get it if he needed it at night. Maybe a storage locker. Or a safe—if he had a safe he could just keep it in his room. Well, for now he'll just have to continue to keep it with him at all times.

He quickly showers and shaves and dresses. Then he shoves the uniform into his backpack along with his unfinished homework and goes downstairs to see what Tina wants.

Tina sees how red his eyes are as he trudges down the stairs and how he missed a bit of stubble on one cheek. "I woke you up early," she says. "Or...I didn't, not directly, but it's my fault."

"Not that early," he says like it's no big deal.

"I wanted to take you out for breakfast so I could apologize to you, and I'm only making things worse."

"Apologize?"

"For...you know. I'd still like to do it officially, over breakfast. If you don't mind."

He doesn't know, actually. Unless it's something obvious that he's just forgetting about thanks to the lack of sleep. He agrees to the breakfast though—even though he usually just has a bowl of cereal, it seems he may as well go with her now that he's up and dressed with plenty of time to spare. She drives them out to Panera at the mall and refuses to tell him what's on her mind until after they've gone in and ordered.

They find a table, and while they're waiting for their food Sam says, "Tina, whatever you've done, it's not so bad that you can't tell me." He drinks from his coffee, which is still way too hot, but he needs it.

Tina takes in a deep breath and spends a long time unwrapping her straw before putting it into her orange juice. "It's about how I treated you at prom. Well, and before prom."

Oh, that. Yeah, that was pretty bad. "But you already apologized for that," he points out. "I hope you don't think I'm still holding a grudge."

"No," she assures him. "No, you've been really sweet and understanding. I just...never gave you any kind of explanation even, and..." She unconsciously reaches for a strand of hair to twirl around her finger, forgetting that she put it up this morning. Instead she settles for patting one of the braids wrapped around her head.

"No, I know. Girls go crazy over prom." He surreptitiously—well, he tries to be surreptitious about it but is actually pretty obvious—he obviously and clumsily captures an ice cube from Tina's water with his fork and drops it into his coffee.

Tina passes him her cup of ice water. "It's not even just prom though. It's like all through senior year I've been turning into this person I don't even like, and...I mean, at first I sort of thought I did, but—"

Someone behind the counter yells her name, and she interrupts herself to go get their food and another cup of water. Sliding Sam's breakfast sandwich over to him, she sits back down across from him. "Anyway, I wanted to apologize, not give you some sob story about myself. You're the kindest, sweetest guy I know, and you didn't deserve for anyone to shit all over you like I did. I didn't think..." She tears off a little piece of bread and starts crumbling it onto the plate.

"You didn't think what?" Sam prompts.

"Well, at the time I was breaking our date—besides just being crazy, which I don't really have an explanation for—I didn't really think you'd mind. Because, like, I knew you didn't really want to go with me, you just agreed to to be nice, so I kind of thought you'd be relieved."

"No one's relieved to get dumped publicly."

"Yeah. And I'm so sorry." She takes his hand and squeezes it, then lets it go abruptly. "Sorry. That was too much."

"No, it's okay. The hand thing and the prom thing. They're both okay."

Tina shakes her head. "They're not. Okay, the hand thing maybe wasn't so bad, but the prom thing wasn't okay."

"All right, it wasn't okay. But I accept your apology." He takes her hand and holds it. "How's that?"

She giggles a little and says, "Thanks, Sam. You really are the best."

"So can we talk about other stuff now?" He forgives her and everything, but bringing all this up again has kind of bummed him out.

"Yeah. After I just add for the record that it was totally my loss, that I could have had the best prom date ever, but that I deserve it for being such an idiot."

"Okay." He dumps more ice in his coffee—enough to make it overflow—and tries another sip. Success—it's now cool enough to drink! "But now?"

"Yes, we can talk about other stuff now. What's up with you?"

"Actually...when you showed up at the house I was kind of wondering if you'd already heard."

"Already heard what? Is it juicy? Wait, I guess people don't consider gossip about themselves juicy. Tell me anyway and I'll decide."

Sam tells her about the uniform.

She doesn't believe him.

Big surprise.

Sam shrugs. "I'd put in on and prove it, but I really don't wanna have to do you right here in the middle of Panera. Not to mention all the innocent bystanders I'd also have to do. It's actually kind of exhausting."

"Of course it is," she says patronizingly. "Maybe that's why you're so tired."

Yesterday Sam probably would have taken enough offense at her tone to drag her into the bathroom and prove it, but not today. Anyway, he thinks of an easier way to convince her. "Call Mike. He'll tell you."

"Oh really. Because you put the thing on and had to 'do' him?"

"No. But he was on the football team when Brittany was using it with them."

Tina takes out her phone, looks at it, then looks at Sam skeptically. "I am going to tell him you're the one who put me up to calling him so early. So if you just wanna take it back now..."

"You don't have to call him now."

"So you admit you're making it up?"

"Nope. It's totally true." He drains the rest of his coffee.

"Then I'm calling him now."

Sam gives her a go-ahead signal and she puts her phone on speaker and dials. After a couple rings they hear a sleepy-sounding Mike answering, "Tina? Is everything okay?"

"Sorry to wake you, Mike. I'm here with Sam and he told me to call you—"

"I suggested she wait until later, actually," Sam interjects.

Tina continues, "He was telling me this crazy story that supposedly you'll confirm..." And she proceeds to tell him the crazy story.

She finishes, and she and Sam wait for Mike to say something. Anything. "You still there, man?" Sam asks.

They hear a sharp intake of breath, and then Mike says, "Okay, Tina, I want you to remember this was all before you and I got together." Tina abruptly takes Mike off speaker and rushes out to the parking lot with the phone to her ear.

By the time she's back Sam has finished his breakfast and a refill on his coffee. "Did he confirm my crazy story?" he asks around a mouthful of Tina's sandwich, which he also maybe took a bite or two from.

Tina nods. "So...Sue apparently ordered Brittany to sleep with the whole football and Cheerios teams, like, before each game..." She can't believe not only that she just said that but that she believes it. If Mike's story hadn't matched up with Sam's—or if it had been anyone other than Mike supposedly confirming the story—she wouldn't. "Are you planning on...adopting a similar strategy but with glee?"

"Yeah, I think so." It seems like he's already done it with around half of them. "Except anyone who doesn't want to."

"And, like, Unique. I mean, how would you even..."

Sam doesn't tell her that Unique was the first one he fell under the uniform's power with. It's not that he's embarrassed about it, but he doesn't know how she would feel about anyone knowing. He just repeats, "Anyone who wants to. Well, any of the kids. Not, like, Mr. Schue or anyone like that." Not only does the thought of fucking Mr. Schuester freak him out, but he's also pretty sure their teacher would put a stop to the whole thing if he knew. Like, he might consider it unsportsmanlike or something.

"So..." Tina hopes Sam really, sincerely forgives her for all the prom stuff. And she's incredibly glad she didn't know about this uniform thing before she apologized, because if she had she'd be seriously questioning her own motives for the apology. But since she doesn't have to question them, she asks, "If I wanted to volunteer...?"

"Yeah? So Mike told you how great it is?"

"He said I should definitely jump at the chance if offered. In fact, he said he might drive down for the weekend if your offer extends to guys and/or former gleemates."

"Tell him the offer extends," Sam says, because why not?

"Wow. Mike never expressed any interest in guys when we were together. And I mean, not even when I hinted—well, not hinted really, more like stated explicitly—that I thought an M/M/F threesome would be super hot."

Well. That's more than Sam wanted to know about Tina. Maybe it sort of explains her crush on Blaine? He says, "Yeah, well, it works on everyone. Even people you'd never be attracted to normally. So, yeah, you can definitely volunteer." He takes a sip of water and realizes how that sounded. "Not that I'm saying that I need the uniform to want to...I mean with Mike maybe but not with you..."

"Thanks." She doesn't totally believe him but doesn't press the issue. "I definitely wouldn't need it with you either."

"Thanks." He takes another sip of water. "I should still wear it though. Otherwise we wouldn't get the performance boost."

"Yeah, definitely wear it. I bet you'd look super hot in a cheerleading uniform even if it didn't have any magic powers." Oh Jesus, she can just picture Sam in one of those tiny little Cheerios skirts, ass on display...

"It's not magic, it's science."

"Huh?" Tina's still picturing Sam's ass. "Oh, yeah, whatever." She glances around the restaurant. "So...we should probably go somewhere a little more private."

"Oh! You want to...now?"

Tina checks the clock on her phone. "We don't have a ton of time, but from what Mike told me there isn't a lot of foreplay necessary, so..." And honestly she probably wouldn't need much anyway with the state she's worked herself into based on the current discussion and its accompanying mental images.

Sam almost asks if they can wait until after school. He got so little sleep and...But he realizes, with some surprise, that he's not actually all that tired anymore. It must be the caffeine—he hardly ever drinks it, so when he does he really feels it. Plus, Tina's got this look in her eye like...well, she hasn't seen him in the uniform yet, so it's not that, obviously, but he's pretty sure she'd really rather not wait.

They end up driving to the school rather than to either of their houses, both of which are slightly out of the way and neither of which they'd be alone in anyway. In the parking lot they see Marley and Unique sitting in Unique's car; Sam waves at them and starts to walk in their direction to say hi, but Tina pulls him directly inside to the auditorium—she's not about to let him get distracted!—and into a dressing room backstage.

Tina hops up onto the vanity and sits there watching him. "What are you doing?" he asks, feeling weirdly self-conscious.

"Waiting for you to change into the uniform, obviously."

"And you're just gonna watch me?"

"Well...yeah. I mean, we are about to have sex, are we not?"

"Yeah, but..." Sam has no idea why he feels so weird about the way she's watching him. He used to be a stripper, for god's sake. (Not that he didn't feel weird about that too.) And, like she said, they are about to have sex, so...

"Would it help if I..." Tina stands and wiggles free of her dress. She drops it carelessly on a chair and hops back up on the vanity, now wearing only hot pink cotton panties and a pair of black ankle-length boots. It hardly helps at all, because now all Sam wants to do is stare at her boobs. Well, not just stare...

"Can I touch them?" he asks...after he's already started reaching for them but before actually making contact.

Tina smiles. She knows it's beyond cliché that all (straight) boys love all boobs, but she can't help but be happy that Sam of all guys is having such a reaction to hers—without even having the magic...uh, scientific uniform on yet! She tells him, "Of course," and she even pushes her chest forward a little to make it easier for him...and, okay, to make them look bigger.

Sam cups one tenderly in each hand. They're so perky and cute. And if he'd known that Tina walks around school without a bra on, he would have been paying a lot closer attention all this time! He traces over her nipples with his fingertips, feeling them stiffen under his skin, and he's totally entranced until Tina reminds him that this has to be a quickie, unfortunately, and he should probably change into the uniform.

"Right," he says, and he reluctantly lets go and takes a step back. He realizes that with Tina sitting in front of a giant mirror like she is, he can see her tits and her ass at the same time, and even though she still has panties on it's pretty awesome. He doesn't want to let himself get too distracted by the sight, though, and he turns away to get the uniform out of his backpack.

He has his back to Tina when he pulls his t-shirt off over his head. It's a damn shame—he has the best abs! Well, second-best. Tied, she decides. He slips the sleeveless Cheerios top on before she gets a chance to determine how nice his back is compared to Mike's. His arms, though. As nice, at least.

And then he drops his pants and underwear in one motion and his ass is...yes, very nice. Very, very nice. Damn. She feels herself getting moist and tingly and wonders if it's the half of the uniform he's got on so far kicking in already. If not, then she doesn't really need any magic...any science to make her want to jump him.

Oh, oh, oh! He's bending over in front of her now! Pantsless! What she wouldn't give right now for a "girlpeen"! Oh yeah, that's a thing—in fanfiction, anyway. It's a penis—but on a girl. If she had one she'd just hold him down and fuck him and fuck him and fuck him until she came in his cute little ass. Sigh.

"Are you ready?"

"What?" She's taken aback for a second because that's exactly what she was just imagining herself asking him...seconds before penetrating him with her girlpeen. "Oh, right. Yeah. Ready." Very ready.

That's is, she thinks she's very ready...until he puts on the skirt and pulls the spanks on under it and she realizes she wasn't prepared at all for the effect the full uniform would have on her.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

She thought she wanted to jump him before, but now she finds herself getting up and literally jumping on him the second he turns to face her.

Sam catches her at the same moment he catches sight of the two of them in the mirror. Tina's legs spread wide, wrapped around his waist. Her ass in those little hot pink panties, now visibly damp at the crotch. Her back muscles moving as she grinds against him.

Oddly, though, Tina isn't all his eyes are drawn to; they're also drawn to his own image. And he knows it's just the phlebotinum, but holy shit does he look hot in that cheerleading outfit. He can't believe how attracted he is to himself.

Oh no. Oh no, he hopes he's not going to have to fuck his own reflection in the mirror. No, no, no.

But it would be kind of hot, right? Humping the mirror, rubbing his dick right up against the glass? As long as it didn't break...

"Sam, I need you in me!" Tina pleads.

"Yeah!" Yeah, Tina. God. He slides his hands around to her ass and tries to pull her panties down. He doesn't get them far, though—her legs are wrapped around him too tightly. "Can you just get down for a—"

"Please! Why aren't you fucking me yet?"

Okay. That's okay, he can just push them to the side.

Except he can't. She's pressed against him way too tight for him to get his hand in between them, and anyway her hips are moving way too fast.

Tina doesn't understand why Sam won't fuck her yet. And not only that, but why she can't—well, it's not that she can't feel anything exactly. She can feel his cock all rock hard just on the other side of her panties, but rubbing against it doesn't help. Like, not at all. She's going to cry, she's seriously going to cry if Sam doesn't do something.

But then he does do something, and she does start to cry because what he's doing is the exact wrong thing. He's actually prying her off of him—he's separating them instead of bringing them closer! Oh god, what is wrong with him, doesn't he understand how much she needs—

"Shh, shh, don't cry, Tina." Sam sets her down, makes her stand.

"But what are you doing!?" she demands, nearly hysterical.

Sliding his spanks off, he says, "I just need you to take your panties off. They're in the way. I need you to take them off."

Tina tries to make sense of what Sam is telling her. And suddenly it does make sense. Of course! She pushes them down, steps out of them, and looks at Sam expectantly.

But he's not looking at her, he's looking over her shoulder. "Sam, what are you—"

"Your butt when you bent over," he says. "Oh my god."

Tina looks behind her and notices the mirror. "Oh fuck," she says. "Yes." She's never wanted to watch herself having sex before, but now...yes. She turns to face the mirror and watches Sam watching them both over her shoulder. Locking eyes with his reflection, she bends at the waist and places her hands on the vanity. She spreads her legs a little wider and says, "Like this. Do me like this."

Sam immediately closes the distance between them, wanting nothing more than to get his dick inside her. Except he quickly realizes that she's far too short—or, hell, maybe he's the one who's too tall—anyway, their heights are too different for them to do this standing.

Or at least...they can't both be standing.

With Tina whining at him to come on, he tells her, "Don't move your hands" and lifts her by the hips.

Tina shrieks—she was not expecting to be manhandled into a wheelbarrow-like position—but she quickly wraps her legs around him and crosses her ankles above his butt, and then she's fine. What does it matter how awkward the position is, as long as he can finally fuck her? Which she really, really hopes he's about to do, because she can't take this much longer.

And then in one smooth motion he's inside her. Tina lets out a sob, but this time it's of relief. His dick feels so good inside her—like nothing she's ever felt before. He's slamming into her hard, pushing her whole body forward with each thrust so that her head comes within inches of the mirror. She has to remind herself to keep her arms steady—not because she would even care if she hit her head, but because if she fell forward suddenly they might have to stop fucking momentarily.

Sam can't take his eyes off the mirror. He's still pretty damn turned on by the way he looks in the phlebotinum-infused Cheerios skirt. But it's not just himself—Tina looks amazingly hot too. The way she's got her ass all pressed up against him, the smooth curve of her back, her tits bouncing wildly as he fucks her hard and fast.

Tina's not really aware of how loud she's moaning, she's not aware of how tight her eyes are squeezed shut, she's only aware of the perfect cock pistoning in and out of her at the perfect angle and with the perfect force, of how her pussy is instinctively squeezing it as tight as possible, desperate to never let it go. One thing does gradually penetrate her consciousness, though: Sam saying her name.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Look in the mirror, baby. Look at us."

Tina can't believe she forgot the mirror! She looks and, oh Jesus, the two of them are hot together. Sam, of course, is like sex personified in that fucking cheerleading uniform. But it's the look of unadulterated lust in her own eyes that actually triggers her orgasm. "Sam! Fuck!" she manages before it's all incoherent screaming, her body quaking as wave after wave of pleasure radiates through her being.

Sam tightens his grip on Tina's hips and stops moving. With the way she's thrashing about he's terrified she's going to go flying face first right into the mirror. But even without thrusting at all, he starts to come too—her orgasming pussy is constricting and releasing and constricting and releasing so perfectly that he's helpless to do anything but unload into her with a deep groan.

Tina goes slack after a few minutes and rests her elbows on the vanity. Then her head. Sam takes her calming down as his cue that he can resume actively fucking her. He just came, he doesn't understand why he still needs this, and—much worse!—why it's not really helping anymore.

"Sam, this is getting pretty uncomfortable," Tina says. All the blood has rushed to her head, she realizes, and it kind of hurts the way her cheek is being jostled back and forth against the linoleum. "Can we try a different position?"

"Huh? Oh. Okay." Sam reluctantly pulls out and helps her stand. As he's waiting as patiently as he can for her to be steady on her legs again, he glances in the mirror and realizes why he still needs to come. "Oh, shit. I have to..."

He doesn't know how to explain to Tina that he has to climb up on the vanity and fuck the mirror. He really doesn't want her to watch him do it, but...well...he doesn't want to have to wait, either, for her to get dressed and leave.

The skirt is going to be in the way, he thinks, and since he's discovered he doesn't actually have to keep the uniform on, he pulls it down.

And the most wonderful thing happens while he's stepping out of it. His wrist grazes his dick, and it feels amazing. And that's so different from how every time he's touched himself it hasn't helped at all, that he immediately realizes he is going to be able to jerk himself off this time, which will be so much easier and less embarrassing than humping a mirror.

Tina watches, fascinated, as Sam starts stroking his cock. "I really thought you came when I did," she says.

"I did," Sam answers. He looks into the reflection of his own eyes and says simply, "I have to again." He'll explain it to her, but later.

Tina considers this as she watches him cup his own balls and start to jerk himself faster. She doesn't feel like she needs to come again necessarily, but that's not to say she's lost all interest. And if she can help at all...

She stands behind him, watching him in the mirror over his shoulder. Rubbing her hands over his butt, she imagines Sam taking it in the ass.

And then she realizes...maybe he will! "What are you gonna do with Mike?" she asks. "Are you gonna let him fuck you?"

Sam lets out a huff. "Maybe," he answers distractedly. He's really not thinking about Mike at the moment. He's thinking about his own dick and the release it needs so badly.

"That would be so hot," Tina says. She kisses his shoulder and then lets her fingers slide between his ass cheeks. "I'd love to fuck you in the ass."

"Huh?" Sam's really distracted, but he thinks she just said...

"I said I'd love to fuck you in the ass. If I had a girlpeen, I'd just spread your cheeks open..." She demonstrates this. "And I'd push it right up against your little hole..." She demonstrates this as well, using her fingers. "And then I'd shove it right up—"

Before Tina gets a chance to demonstrate this last thing, Sam is spilling over his fist and muttering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

And then the first bell rings, and so Tina is deprived of the opportunity to fingerfuck Sam Evans. She does, however, get the opportunity to explain what a "girlpeen" is as they get dressed to go to class.


End file.
